


One Small Spark

by Khadrimx



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Angst, Arson, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fire, Flirting, Original Character(s), Romance, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadrimx/pseuds/Khadrimx
Summary: Battery City is safe. The air outside may be toxic but in here? It's safe. Go to work. Go home before curfew. Follow the rules. Take your medicine. Battery City is safe thanks to your friends at Better Living Industries. Better Living for a Better Life.Fire Frenzy has spent her life fighting Better Living, the pharmaceutical overlords of Battery City, plotting to take them down and free the people of their cleverly disguised tyrannical grip. Party Poison, leader of the rebellion group known as the Killjoys, has done the same but less covertly. The Killjoys lead a candy-colored revolt against government-mandated normality (and far worse). But Better Living has more power, money, and control than either of them can imagine.As their paths cross, the fight between the Killjoys and Better Living comes to a point centered around the two.
Relationships: Party Poison (Danger Days) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Burn Down the Bar

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a long time ago and had a hell of a delightful time. Made some of my best friends while writing this. The last few months I've been going through and giving it a good ol' edit. So, join me and have some fun! Killjoys, make some noise~

Dusty lamps flickered in the nearly empty bar, casting a dim orange glow over the old metallic furniture. The usual closing time was six hours away but this _particular_ establishment was open at all hours. Yes, the lights went out to signal it was closed in cooperation with the strict curfew in effect, but people could come and go as they pleased as long as they were willing to pay and didn’t cause any trouble.

The bar was a rare neutral place in the tumultuous and often violent Zones.

Front doors swung open with a creak and the bartender looked up from the musty glass in his hand. He had a fondness for taking stock of his patrons in case they caused any trouble. There was a shotgun hidden beneath the bar in case of emergencies. The man who had entered the bar was a regular. The kind of trouble he’d caused was barely trouble at all. Mostly big talk and attitude.

Other than the quiet hum of the AM radio on the edge of the bar rattling off advertisements and local news stories, there was little other noise in the bar. It was required by law for establishments in and surrounding Battery City to have either a television or radio playing at all times, transmitting news from the powers that be. Any establishment without one would be shut down and its belongings, and employees, confiscated.

“ **Breaking news!** Reports of terrorist activity within the walls of Battery City! For your safety we _strongly_ recommend that you take cover in your homes before sundown which happens at approximately half past seven this week! If found outdoors after sunset our agents from Better Living Industries will happily escort you somewhere safe until sunrise. Don’t forget: Better Living: for a better life…” The radio buzzed for a solid thirty seconds as if often did after important messages before it rattled on about the recent so-called terrorist activity: fires, missing children, fear mongering transmissions to control the population.

“More of that bullshit.” The man who had entered the bar approached the bartender and took the pint he’d ordered, ignoring the patron seated at the bar nearby. He turned to the only other table that was occupied and the man already drinking there. His voice echoed throughout the bar.

“Hmm? What about who?” The other patron mumbled, not even bothering to raise his gaze from his glass, long gray hair falling loose from its ponytail.

“Didn’t you see the poster hanging outside the door?”

“What about it? Hard to miss considering how big it is.”

“Those goons are still running wild. Those _Killjoys_.” The instigator leaned back in his chair, running fingers through his short black hair. His friend stayed silent but managed a nod and shifted his gaze. “Fuckin’ anarchists, that’s what they are. Hiding behind the appearance of some so-called _cause_? Always stirrin’ up trouble in the zones! Now they’re inside the city, too? Nowhere’s safe! No one in their right mind comes out here anyway so _fuck_ the zones but when Battery City isn’t even safe from their antics? I say enough is enough!” His friend chuckled. They both bore the marks of businessmen who liked to let loose after work by wearing clean leather jackets and pretending to be tough.

“Who suffers for it? For their crimes? These curfews and now rations because of their thievery? Stealing our city’s supplies for God only knows what! Like we didn’t have enough restrictions as it was? Who does that hurt? _Us!_ The law-abiding citizens. Hang every single one of ‘em, I say! Set an example. Maybe then they’ll fall in line.” He stopped suddenly, hearing the flick of an old lighter. Both men looked around but saw nothing. The woman at the bar and the man running it weren’t paying them much mind.

“Better yet we should lock ‘em up and let ‘em suffer. That would teach them a _real_ lesson. Why should they be put out of their misery when we’re still suffering because of them? Let them suffer instead of us! It’s only right, only fair.” Both men burst into raucous laughter. It was an empty sort of laughter that made even the usually impartial bartender twist his face in disgust. The dark-haired man picked up his glass and held it to his friend jovially.

“Cheers! The day that I see those idiots humiliated on the front page of the paper I’ll buy the whole bar a round! Hell, I’ll even frame a copy for everyone here.” The clanking of glasses echoed through the bar as they both took a hefty drink in celebration.

The bartender had been scrubbing the same glass since the man with the dark hair had entered the bar. He wasn’t _really_ scrubbing but rather listening and watching the reactions of the woman seated at the bar. She couldn’t have been happy and he was hoping that he could prevent any violence. This particular person, while one of his favorites, was also one of his most dangerous. Over the years he’d developed a knack for keeping her calm. He could tell she was unhappy by the way she was tossing her favorite lighter between her hands.

He _hated_ the sight of that damn thing. She was always getting herself into trouble with it and he’d been pulled into more than one scrape because of it too. He watched her cock her head to the side curiously. She was going to jump in on those men, he knew it. He could sense it.

“Frenzy, it’s not worth it,” he whispered and then hung his head as the stool scraped against the concrete floor anyway. At least he’d tried. There wasn’t much he could do to sway her when she put her mind to something.

“Excuse me.” The lighter in her hand was covered in graffiti of her own making and she was flicking it with a shaky finger so that it sparked every few seconds like a nervous tic. She hadn’t been drinking that afternoon, she’d simply come in for peace of mind. The orange flame came to life above her fingertips and she stared into it, instantly calmed. “I’m going to take a wild guess here. You’re both happily married, right? Have a safe desk job? One with benefits, a pension? Never once struggled to find safety since the day you were born? Raised in the suburbs? You both probably come here every weekend and talk a good game, laugh about the _things you’d do_ but never do a damn thing, right?”

“If you were face to face with a Killjoy I don’t think you’d do a damn thing nonetheless say any of that shit to their faces. I bet you would lower your gaze and walk right on by. You’d make up a good story to tell your friends, live the thrill for a few minutes, then continue your life like the rest of the damn city. _Blind_. Living your sheltered life in Battery City, every so often venturing out into Zone Four, the last safe zone for people who can’t protect themselves, and call yourselves tough?” She flipped the lighter closed and sat up straight. Tapping the counter of the bar, she nodded toward the bartender. Even though she was short, with her posture corrected, there was something intimidating about her. “You’re pathetic. No, you’re _worse_ than pathetic.”

The bartender grabbed a shot glass and filled it to the brim with whiskey, the way he knew she liked. She downed it nearly as quickly as he had poured it. Setting down the glass, she offered him a nod of gratitude. If she turned around, she’d see their faces and one wrong look, one wrong twitch, and she’d do something she would regret. She didn’t want to burn down that _particular_ bar. She liked the place which was priceless to her. As often as she made people uncomfortable, she was also made uncomfortable by others.

Both men were staring at her, she could feel their gaze and their hesitation. It was clear from their silence that no one had ever called them out on their bullshit before. When she didn’t continue, the dark-haired man seemed to regain himself.

“Listen _sweetheart_ , you have no clue what you’re talking about.” He had a smirk on his face, she could tell. Flicking open the lighter again, she lit the flame and watched as it danced above the metal. The flame warmed her flesh. She could burn them alive right there and no one would ever catch her.

“Yeah, mind your own business!” The gray-haired man chimed in much to the amusement of his friend. They seemed suddenly cockier. She knew what they were thinking. She was just a girl with a lighter! What trouble could she cause for them?

The bartender winced. “I think that’s enough, guys.” He turned to the woman before him and placed his hand on the bar before her, pleading. “Please don’t burn down my bar, Frenzy.”

“Don’t worry, Harvey.” She hopped off of her barstool. “I’m in control.” She kept the lighter in her grasp, the sound of it clicking to life and calming her. She didn’t mean she had control over the situation just over her own actions. There were often times where she allowed her nerves to get the best of her, where she acted before she thought and she lost control completely. “I should mind my own business? Fine. I’ll mind my own business but I do have one more question for you _gentlemen_ first.” Flicking the lighter once more she slowly walked toward their table. They stared, both shrinking in their seat as she approached. “Have you ever broken the rules before? The laws of Battery City?” Neither man responded though they exchanged nervous glances. These men were the last straw after an exhausting series of days.

_Dirt flew as she sped through the desert, catching up with the caravan on her old motorcycle. Her bandana covered her gas mask and goggles kept the dirt from her eyes, the fiery red mask she usually wore was flipped atop her head. They wouldn’t hear her coming over the noise of their militarized trucks. She needed supplies to build the weapons she sold and had received a reliable tip that she would find such supplies in that caravan. She had been known to take risks at even a chance of supplies but this time she felt the risk was a guaranteed success._

_Leaning on one foot she stopped, keeping the engine revved. Reaching to the side of her motorbike she lifted an old sniper rifle she’d repurposed to now be colorful, festive, and with a bit more firepower. Holding it on her shoulder she glanced through the scope, held her breath and then fired a single shot. Lowering the gun instantly she put it back in its place and sped off as the tire on the truck popped and it swerved. She was an excellent shot with plenty of practice. The other trucks in the caravan continued forward without realizing they were missing one. They faded from view, the sounds of their diesel engines disappearing into the distance._

_When she knew the coast was clear she set a mental timer. If she was lucky, she had thirty minutes._

“Have you ever seen a Draculoid in person before? Gotten close to them? Or are they a heroic figure on the television screen to you? Have you ever been stuck outside after curfew and run right into the Scarecrow? Have you ever been forced to your knees with a laser gun pointed at your head asking you to beg for forgiveness or be wasted on the concrete? Right before you blow their brains out?” She spoke low, low enough that they would have to listen very hard to make out her words over the prattling of the radio. Despite her small feminine stature, she demanded attention.

_She ditched the motorcycle when she got too close. It was easier to aim her laser pistol that way. Creeping along the side of the truck she fired one shot as the door opened and her target fell, bleeding. Then she turned and quickly fired a second shot into the truck. The body of the first Draculoid draped itself over the half open door. She pushed it the rest of the way open and the body fell into the dirt with a lifeless thud. Kicking him onto his stomach she pulled off his costume mask and shot him in the back of the head. Climbing into the truck, she did the same to the man lying dead in the passenger seat._

_Even dead they weren’t to be trusted. She’d nearly lost an arm once when she hadn’t double checked to see if they were really dead. Never again. Paranoia was not always a bad thing especially since the world was so damn dangerous. Digging through the papers scattered throughout the front seat she searched for the manifest for the truck. Blood spatter and viscera dripped from her victims but she ignored it. She was not squeamish._

_Slamming the glove compartment closed she cursed mentally. There was no shipment invoice, no manifest, no hint to what should have been in the truck. If there were no supplies then there was no reason for her to be there but she didn’t want to leave empty handed either. Every time she hijacked a shipment more eyes fell on her and she had worked hard to keep up her anonymity. There had to be something in the truck worth taking. The outer zones were too dangerous to send an empty caravan._

_Whatever was in the back, she’d reap the rewards. Carefully she made sure there were no sounds of trucks approaching before taking the keys from the ignition and making her way to the back of the truck. Unlocking the steel door, she pulled the handle._

“Erasing danger so you can sleep at night. Better Living: for a better life…” The familiar voice of the evening announcer echoed over the radio. It grated on her nerves and brought her back to the moment.

“Have you ever found the body of a child in the back of a truck? A child who choked to death on the fumes in Zone Six because the Dracs didn’t bother with gas masks for them? Have you ever thought about how many of them have died like that? Thought about just how many unmarked graves there are out there?” Her eyes flashed dangerously. Both men suddenly looked frightened. Her examples were too specific for them not to realize that she was speaking from experience.

_The metal of the door creaked eerily in the quiet desert. The back of the truck was almost completely empty with the notable exception of something covered by a sheet in the back of it. Not weapon supplies, it was far too small. Perhaps blankets or food. It wasn’t what she’d wanted but she would still take it and give to those who needed it. She leapt into the back of the truck. With any luck there would still be some valuable ammunition hidden somewhere._

_The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was sudden. The closer she got the more she knew what was hidden beneath those blankets. She could only hope it was a trick of the mind and that she was mistaken. Pulling the blanket free she cursed beneath her breath. Two small boys probably no older than nine years old. They were covered in dirt, dressed in clothing far too large for them, and they were very dead. She could smell it now even through her gas mask. The all too familiar scent of death._

_Death was so thick she could taste it. She pulled the bandana away from her face and tried to breathe but panic gripped her lungs. She couldn’t pull the gas mask away; she’d get too sick. They were fucking kids! Fucking kids and those bastards didn’t give a shit about what happened to them as long as they delivered them to God only knows where! She could only imagine why the hell they wanted them in the first place!_

_Turning and pacing through the truck she tried to talk herself down but then screamed and cursed in frustration. Slamming her fists into the side of the truck, she took out the anger that bubbled over. The sound of the metal against her gloved fists echoed almost as loud as her pounding heart. Then she paced and shook out the pain in her hand before turning and punching the metal again. Stopping in her tracks she saw the sun peeking over the horizon, the orange spray of light illuminating the metallic floor of the truck. She took a deep breath and then pushed her fingers through her hair._

_“Calm down, just calm the fuck down. Calm the fuck down or you’re next, Frenzy.” Her heart beat a mile a minute but she didn’t have the time to flip out and panic. Hands throbbing, she felt the blood drip over her cheek with her hands in her hair. She’d mutilated her fingers again. She barely remembered why she was there but the truck was dented with her fury. She turned back to the bodies of the children and knew she couldn’t leave them there._

_They deserved better._

“What? Are you one of them or something?” The man with the longer hair asked nervously. His voice was wavering, his tough façade crumbling.

“One of them? A Killjoy, you mean?” She looked curious, head tilted slightly, black side swept bangs framing her face with a stripe of bright red made redder by the lamplight. “No, no I don’t affiliate with the Killjoys.” Her blue eyes must have been in and out of the gray as she considered what had brought her there that day. “But at least they’re trying to make a fucking difference while people like you sit and criticize them for it. Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s happening right outside your door after curfew. They do what they believe is right even if it’s harder and more dangerous than doing what you’re fucking told. You say they should be killed? Tortured? Locked up? That makes you as bad as those Dracs. Neutrality doesn’t make you innocent. It makes you blind. It’s people like you that make it necessary for people like them to exist.”

_The smell of gasoline overwhelmed her senses but calmed her nerves as she poured it over the front seat and on the bodies of the Dracs she’d killed. She walked around the perimeter casually, splashing gasoline all over the truck. Then she stuck a rag in the gas tank and retrieved her container of gasoline. She always carried it with her on supply runs and missions. Fire was all she needed to cleanse the earth of those fuckers. The fire was a purifying thing, a flame that didn’t care about good or evil or any of the bullshit they sold in fairy tales._

_The can was empty. She picked up a stone and made a mark on the side of the gas can next to nearly forty others, barely visible over the graffiti she’d drawn on the tank over years. She placed it with care back on the clip on the side of her motorcycle next to her rifle. She could hear engines in the distance, see the cloud of dust that followed them. They were coming for the truck that had been lost._

_They were coming with guns._

_It was now or never._

“What is it then? Why are you defending them if you don’t work with them? Just to bust our balls?” The dark-haired man spoke in a tone that made it seem like he was ready to kick her ass but behind that snark she could see his apprehension. He was exactly what she had accused him of being.

_The lighter in her pocket was always there for her, reminding her that she needed it. It felt cool in her hands then, like it knew it had a job to do. She kissed the side of it, flipped it open and then held it close to her face. She flicked the fire to life and stared as it danced before her eyes._

“No, I don’t work with them. But any tolerance for the abuse going on in Battery City and the Zones pisses me off. You need to be taught a lesson and Harvey’s way too nice to say it to your face. Or he wants your money. Hard to tell.”

The bartender winced. He’d stopped cleaning the glass in his hand and looked ready to go for the shotgun beneath the bar if it came to blows.

_She had to move quickly and the extra weight on the back of her bike from the children slowed her considerably. She narrowed her eyes through goggles as she sped through the dirt and dust. It was a struggle to keep focus. The last thing she needed was to get into an accident and trash her motorcycle. They’d be on her tail if she didn’t get out of there before they got close. Dust trails were easy to pick up in the desert. An earsplitting explosion rocked the sky behind her. She turned her motorcycle to a stop and watched the orange and red hue of the fire fill the air in the distance, the smoke rising into the sky. She was further than she’d expected to be when she’d turned and that provided safety._

_The fire was lost to the smoke so she turned and drove off, the bodies of the children safe and secure behind her. She wouldn’t let the Dracs erase them. She’d promised herself that a long time ago._

Both men stared at her, afraid. Something she’d done had unsettled them though she didn’t know what it was. The lighter flicked over and over within her fingers and the men fidgeted in their chairs. Her fiery red and orange outfit, outlandish as it was, made her seem like she knew her way around a fire. The soot and ash smeared on her skin and short red and black hair suggested she had done just that.

“You’re lucky I like this place or I’d burn it to the ground with you tied to your fucking chairs.” She turned away from them and walked to the bar before slipping Harvey a few dirty coins. The sound of them spinning on the counter filled the bar. “Thanks for the drink, Harvey. See you soon.” The bartender breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to leave.

_Nightfall came quicker since the atmosphere outside the city had been filled with toxins. The waste dumped in the outer zones made the air poisonous and hid the sun as it got too close to the horizon in a haze. She had been working for hours in Zone Four. This place had been abandoned long ago. Too close to Zone Five for most but Frenzy found safety in it. Even though her arms ached and she was filthy with sweat and dirt, she refused to put the shovel down. She kept digging until both holes were deep enough to bury both children. Standing on her toes she peeked out of the hole and stole a look at the makeshift tombstones that lined the other graves._

_Maybe someday she wouldn’t have to do this anymore. Maybe one day she wouldn’t have to do bury anonymous children in the middle of the California desert. For a long time, she stared at the tombstones, covered in dirt, holding the shovel, lost in her thoughts. If she lingered too long it would be difficult to pull back to reality. Being alone so long she often got lost in her head._

_Tossing the shovel, she pulled herself out of the hole in spite of the soreness in her shoulders and arms. It wasn’t physical strength she lacked in these situations. Before she’d dug the graves, she had cleaned up the bodies of the children before wrapping them carefully. Each of them had been given a small trinket she’d made. On the cloths she drew in black marker a cross over their faces. Then gently she carried each boy into the hole and placed them carefully on the bottom._

_Someone had loved them even if they’d been orphaned. They deserved their own graves. She didn’t believe in God. The cross she’d drawn was more for luck or just in case they had believed in something like that. Just because she’d given up hope didn’t mean that they had. For a long moment she stared at their graves. Had she done right by them? Was it enough? Would it ever be enough?_

_She buried them._

_Then she walked over to her motorcycle. Years ago, she’d found an old Polaroid camera and now she used it to keep track of them. This was her special camera. Frenzy had found herself sentimental with things like that. No other camera would suit her. She picked up the pictures that had developed while she’d dug. The faces of the boys looked back at her, eyes closed, sound asleep but pale enough to see there was no life in their little faces. She turned them over in her hand. Looking at them for too long would set her off and she couldn’t afford that._

She walked outside and pulled her jacket tighter around her to drive out the chill of the fall air. Nights were cold in the desert. Her motorcycle was parked next to Harvey’s familiar old truck. He’d given her a ride in it several times.

Around the back of the building there were two more cars parked next to each other. She walked casually toward them, stopping only to pull an old t-shirt from a trashcan that she spied nearby. She tore it to shreds and paced between the cars. Eyes closed, she recalled the faces of the men and the sneers they’d worn as they had talked shit about Killjoys. Yes, she had scared the piss out of them but that wouldn’t teach them a _real_ lesson. Besides, her fingers were twitching and she was desperate for a distraction, the kind that could get her into big trouble. Her lighter had been burning a hole through her pocket for hours.

Shoving a piece of the shirt into the sedan’s gas tank after cracking the cap she hummed a song she’d heard after Ask Alice’s radio show on the ride over. Then she repeated the action in the station wagon next to it. Flicking her lighter to life she smiled at the flame and then watched as the cloth she’d torn up caught, tucked into both cars. Putting the lighter away she walked back to her motorcycle and patted the back of it. She’d leave it for the night and instead walked down the dusty street past abandoned storefronts.

_Steel walls covered in photographs, sketches, scribbles and newspaper clippings surrounded her as she flipped on the light overhead by the string that hung in the center of the room. She sat on the stool she kept in front of the table she’d built. Placing the photos before her she took a breath then reached for an orange marker. It felt disrespectful to give them numbers but she’d never had any names for them. What right did she have to name them? They were all invisible but she promised that she wouldn’t forget them. They had been alive once. They had lived. She drew the number 7 on the first photo. Then she doodled along the bottom, things she thought this child might have enjoyed if they hadn’t lost their life in such a horrid way._

_Maybe in another life Frenzy could have been an artist. But for now, this was what she would do. The next photo she wrote the number 8 and doodled once again. Then she picked them both up and left her chair. She walked across the room and through a small door she kept tightly locked and hidden behind shelves lined with boxes of ammunition. Her lighter flicked to life, illuminating candles along the desk. Their flames gave the room a warm glow but it was still a cold, uncomfortable room. The walls were mostly barren with the exception of a few photos hanging on the back wall. She grabbed a couple of rusted tacks and then stuck the new photos to the wall next to the other six._

_The dead children watched her even with their eyes closed. In there she could almost hear their voices begging her to save them, begging her to make it stop. She didn’t know how. She’d been trying for years to make it stop. This wasn’t her first graveyard, her first hideout, and she knew it wouldn’t be her last. The task had nearly destroyed her. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. A shelf to the left seemed too close and she moved away and bumped into the wall. She hated that shelf. It held secrets that she preferred not to think about. “I can’t do this right now.” She rubbed her temples. Quickly she extinguished the flames of the candles with her thumb and forefinger then left the room._

_She exhaled and leaned against the now closed door. Everything went quiet in her head. The grip on her chest loosened and she was thinking clearer, less hectic. Her hands were shaking, her stomach was in knots. She needed relief before she got the sweats. She would go see Harvey to find balance. If that didn’t work then she’d seek distraction elsewhere._

_“Fuck.”_

Now that she’d set the fire and watched the flames burst to life in the distance behind her she smiled. It hadn’t been enough to satiate the fix she needed but it was a good start. If those men continued their big talk then they’d eventually meet someone who had a different idea of what being taught a lesson was. Their cars being torched was getting off easy as far as she was concerned. The heat from the flames filled the air. Lovely rays of color lit the sky but the bar remained safe and untouched.

Still, it hadn’t been enough. Her hands were trembling and twitching. She clenched her fists and watched them shake in spite of her. It wasn’t adrenaline and it most certainly wasn’t fear that had caused it. Frenzy knew that she was a mess even as she thought it. What she _needed_ was something she’d only find on the party scene.


	2. Assassinate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Disco, belonging to a friend, she's an assassin who works for the Killjoys. Introducing also Tiger Beatdown and Agent Alpaca (both belonging to the same friend!) The plot thickens~

Skeletons of old suburbs lined these parts of the desert. They were abandoned with the notable exception of those looking for trouble and Disco was definitely looking for trouble- and then some. The air was toxic that far out but the gas mask built into her helmet kept her breathing. Poison in the air from wars long since past left a thick yellowish haze amidst the dust and dirt that she kicked up on her old motorcycle. This far out into the zones was unsettling. She half-expected monsters to crawl from the sand and attack her.

The midday sun reflected off of her matte silver helmet in a blinding light. She was looking to be stealthy but this far out no one would see her anyway. Disco had never run across anyone in Zone Seven before and she didn’t think today would be any different.

One crack in her mask and it would be over. She hated Zone Seven. Just a breath of this stuff would make even the strongest Killjoy sick for weeks. A few minutes? Permanent damage. An hour? That was the longest anyone had ever lasted before the damage had been irreparable. It choked, spread, shut down organ after organ until finally the body could no longer function. Suffocation in the Outer Zones was one of the most brutal and horrid ways to die.

She came to a stop, turning her bike back toward the inner zones. Recently, her superiors had been in touch with an arms dealer, one that thrived on anonymity but was friendly to the Killjoys’ cause. There was little she knew about the manufacturer just that they were difficult to contact and left weapons at odd drop points. That’s what she was doing there, after all, in the last so-called habitable Zone before the desert became too radioactive. She’d been told to go to these coordinates which were right behind the huge concrete walls that had been built to stop the spread of radiation into the outer zones.

Sure enough, there was a beat-up old briefcase lying in the dirt, waiting for her. Flames were drawn all along the bottom of it. She grasped the handle and returned to her bike, attaching the briefcase to the back.

_“Disco.”_

_She looked away from the notebook filled with kanji and shut it immediately. The red jacket would have been telltale enough but the nearly white pompadour he sported was a dead giveaway. Kobra Kid. Setting down her book she folded her legs and gave him her full attention._

_“Poison needs to see you.” When she didn’t move, Kobra sat next to her, back to the table she’d been using. It wasn’t a personal call. She could tell that from his body language. Usually Kobra was engaging and funny but right now he was all business. It wouldn’t do any good to ask why Poison wanted her. She’d have to go see for herself. “He’s waiting on you. Not exactly the patient type either.”_

_That wasn’t a threat. It was a well-known fact that the leader of the Eastern faction of Killjoys in Zone Three didn’t have much patience for anything. If she didn’t go to him when he called then he’d give the job to someone else and she’d be admonished for it later. It was likely that: a job. Either that or she had to help dig him out of some mess he’d gotten himself into. Poison was always getting into trouble._

She left Zone Seven as fast as she could. There were few other places she hated more than that. The quiet, the still air, the sick yellow color, it was disgusting. If she’d had an accident and died out there no one would _ever_ find her. That was one of her worst fears. For a few hours she drove until she reached the western end of the Third Zone. This wasn’t her destination but it was easier to hide her vehicle there in a crowded parking lot than it would be out in the emptiness of the end of Zone Four. She ditched her helmet with her bike and carried the briefcase with her past the crude shelters that littered this part of Zone Three.

Very few looked up at her as she passed. Most people living in the Zones knew better than to engage with strangers. The briefcase had piqued her curiosity. She couldn’t wait to open it up and see the beauty that lay inside. Poison hadn’t told her what kind of gun it was but she had assumed it was a sniper rifle she’d have to assemble. Anything with a scope was difficult to find. Should be an easy, clean job with little mess left behind. She’d do it from afar once she found her target’s location.

This far from Battery City, no one would give her a second glance and no one would ever guess what she was up to. She was dressed for anonymity, black pants, black boots with a red heel, silver jacket tied across her middle, sunglasses over her eyes. They’d never mistake her for a Killjoy either. Most Killjoys wore outlandish colors and Disco was usually the same but when she was working, that was a different thing altogether.

_Party Poison wore his yellow mask at the top of his head, his red hair pushed chaotically from his face, shaved sides of his head exposed. He hunched over his yellow and blue raygun that was now in pieces. The trigger had melted. Disco was certain this was because of some dumb experiment Poison had run and not because he’d been in a fight. He was fiddling with an odd looking lighter in his grasp, staring at it curiously. She cleared her throat when he didn’t turn to greet her. He’d had no idea she was there._

_Immediately his gaze snapped up at her and he flicked the lighter closed before shoving it into his pocket. Still, he played with it even there, seemingly infatuated._

_“You wanted to see me?”_

_“Yeah, I did.” He stood, moving his raygun onto a small desk before pacing in front of it. He seemed frustrated by whatever task he was about to give her. “Disco Bitch…” He smirked as if the name amused him. “I have a very important job for you.”_

_“Name it, boss.” She shrugged. Disco was often called to handle gruesome tasks. She had the stomach for it. Years ago, she had separated herself from the guilt that came with taking lives._

_“Tiger Beatdown.”_

_“Another Killjoy? You want me to kill one of our own?” Disco’s response had been expected and Poison folded his arms across his chest. “Not just one of our own but the leader of the Western faction of Killjoys? Your partner? I won’t do it without good reason, Poison. Once we start turning against each other then they win. You know that better than anyone.”_

_“I know very well what I said.” He was very serious, a side of Poison that Disco rarely saw. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight tan pants._

_“Give me a good reason. Why should I kill him? Why shouldn’t I kill you for suggesting it?”_

_“I haven’t hurt any kids. I haven’t taken a deal with the Dracs. I’m not setting us up for a fall.”_

_“And he has?”_

_“I have reliable information that he’s using his Killjoys to make deals with the Dracs. He’s ratted out several Killjoys that have gone missing in the past weeks. Getting our people killed. Reports he’s selling the orphans we save to the Dracs. Trust me, I don’t want to do this but these reports are monstrous and something has to be done. I’d hope that if I ever did anything so fucking disgusting that someone would put me out of my goddamn misery because I wouldn’t deserve to keep breathing.”_

An hour passed and she made it into Zone Four. Thankfully she wouldn’t have to walk the whole thing. Obvious signs of Killjoys began to emerge: graffiti, watchtowers, makeshift gates and fences. Once certain she was alone, Disco knelt in the dirt and opened the briefcase. A smile spread across her face. The gun was in pieces but was beautifully crafted. It made her giddy. Each time she snapped a piece into place she found something new and exciting. It was a piece of art. It was a shame it was designed to ditch after the job. She’d at least keep the scope.

Beneath the gun was a switchblade with a note scrawled in red pen. It was complementary with the purchase of the rifle. Pocketing the blade, she ditched the suitcase. No one would think twice about finding it in the desert. It wasn’t like the Dracs would investigate the death of a Killjoy anyway. They were practically considered rats in Battery City.

Guards patrolled the perimeters of the Killjoy camp. It was less of a camp and more of a small town with guard posts positioned strategically around the perimeter. A storm was rolling in, Disco could see it on the horizon so the guards were staying at their posts and keeping a sharp eye out. The buildings she could see in the distance through the dust and haze were low to the ground, some of them sunken underground. The Eastern faction tended to build up rather than out like the Western faction did.

Quietly, Disco approached one of the guards. As they turned the corner, she knocked their feet from underneath them and leapt on top of them. With her hand over their mouth and nose she waited until their breathing was so stifled that they passed out. She would drag them to the side and by the time they woke up she’d be long gone.

A shape shifted before her and she watched as another guard appeared around the corner. Cursing, she ducked out of the way of laser fire. In a panic, she rushed the guard and knocked him to the ground. They fought over the laser pistol in his hands for a brief second before she managed to pull his fingers free. Tossing the gun out of the way she sat atop the guard before pinning him to the ground. Then she forced her arm against his neck and waited for his breath to leave him like his friend.

It was likely that they had already sounded the alarm. Killjoys on guard were careful. Alert first, attack second. That wasn’t part of her plan but she’d work around it. All she needed to do was to locate her mark and then get the hell out of there. Catching her breath, Disco took a bandana from her pocket and wrapped it around her face. Dusting herself off she searched for anyone coming after her. So far nothing.

For some reason she had expected more resistance, especially if this faction of Killjoys had been infiltrated by Better Living Industries. Then again, if Tiger Beatdown was setting his Killjoys up for a fall it might have been better to keep security lax.

_“What do you want me to do?” She’d been pacing for a good twenty minutes. It was unsettling to have to take out one of their own. “You think he’s prepared for an attack? If he’s turned sides then it’s likely he’s upped security.”_

_“Likely.” Poison was no longer looking at her but playing with that damn lighter again, like it held some kind of secret. “I’ve thought about this for a long while before coming to this conclusion. Don’t you think I thought about it? Tiger Beatdown is a competent man. Even if he hadn’t turned sides security would be tight. Getting into our place isn’t easy, is it? Would you expect any different from them?”_

_“So, what do you suggest I do? Walk in there with a big gun and shoot him in the face?”_

_“Have I ever suggested that?” Poison frowned and Disco chuckled. “Forget I said that. I know I’m impulsive. I pay you not to be. Sneak in there. I happen to know you’re good at sneaking. Watch him. Kill him. Report back here.” He finally put the lighter into his pants pocket and stopped playing with it. “I understand if you don’t want the job.”_

_“I didn’t say that. I’ll do it. It’s difficult to believe that one of our own has turned. Once we start fighting amongst ourselves then we’ve lost sight of our cause.”_

_“You said that. Trust me, I don’t like this anymore than you do. But something has to be done. My sources are reliable. You need a gun and Kobra Kid has provided one for you. You can find it here.” Poison walked to her and handed her a folded-up piece of parchment._

_“Zone Seven? Really?” Disco scoffed in disgust._

_“It’s dangerous but I have faith you can handle it. Anything else?”_

_“No.” Flooded with determination she turned to leave him and his lighter be. She trusted Party Poison. When he had a reliable tip, it was always right. When an organization got as big as the Killjoys had it was bound to have a few traitors in the group. “I’ll see you when it’s done.”_

“Have you told Tiger yet?” She stopped short and ducked low behind a set of crates covered in a tarp and listened. A man and a woman were chatting just around the other side of it. Both of them were armed and looked worried. They had been alerted and were watching for her. Worried guards were often trigger happy so she hoped to avoid contact if she could.

“No, he’s still out at the edge of the zone. I sent a runner to spread the message to him and Alpaca.”

“Good. What’s he doing out there anyway? There’s a storm coming. We should be hunkering down.”

“I was told it was none of my goddamn business. You know Agent Alpaca. He’s defensive about anything that involves Tiger.”

That was all Disco needed to hear. They thought she was breaking into their faction for supplies. The wind was picking up and a haze of sand hung in the air offering her cover as she turned her back to the faction and continued into the desert.

Her goggles kept getting blocked up with sand and she had to keep wiping them in annoyance. It was odd to her that she met little resistance on the way to where their leader had been. Sticking along the edges of the zone it wouldn’t take her long to find him. With any luck he'd be vulnerable or heading back to the camp before the storm hit.

The sound of children playing and laughing carried on the wind. Ducking low to the sand she lifted the gun into place and stared through the scope. Children shouldn’t have been out in the storm. It wasn’t just the dust, but dark clouds were approaching. Many rainstorms carried acid and rot with them these days. The whole of the zones would be taking cover soon. Through the scope she could see at least ten small children running around playing with a few old toys. They were thin and malnourished but seemed happier than most kids she saw in the Zones.

Tiger Beatdown sat with them on an old milk crate. He was handing out cans of food to the kids that he was opening with a utility knife. Disco wiped the scope to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. The can was familiar. These were rations that had been recovered from a raid earlier in the week. Why would a man who planned to sell these kids to Dracs be sacrificing his personal storage of food for them? She hesitated then adjusted the position of her gun.

The shot was perfect. She could squeeze the trigger and be out of there before anyone knew she was there. She didn’t do it. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He was feeding orphans. Even if he was a turncoat it felt like bad karma to blow his brains out all over those kids. Besides that, they looked happy. He was smiling and joking with them, telling them wild stories. These didn’t seem like the actions of a man who was going to send kids to their deaths.

Some of the older kids were reinforcing their housing in preparation for the oncoming storm. The weather out there was unpredictable. She could see him instructing them on what to do. To make matters worse the kids were wearing patches on their jackets given out by the Killjoys to identify them. They had to have been saved from the Dracs and recently at that, judging by the state of them. She looked away from the gun and took a breath. What if she decided not to do it? What if Party Poison’s reliable information was wrong? Maybe he’d been misled.

On the other hand, she trusted him. He’d never steered her wrong before and stuck his neck out for her time and again. Either Tiger Beatdown was an excellent liar or Poison was being deceived. But how? He only trusted a handful of people. She wasn’t even sure he actually trusted her. If his information was reliable it had to have come from someone close to him. She was torn. Disco always trusted her gut and her gut said that they were being deceived.

She’d return to Poison and tell him what she’d observed and maybe instead of killing Tiger Beatdown they could meet with him and check their sources a bit better. Getting up, she started through the sand, gun in hand. Suddenly she was struck from behind and she felt the blood drip down the back of her neck past her short-cropped hair.

Stumbling forward she fell face first onto the ground and blacked out.

When she opened her eyes again the world spun around her. Everything was dark and uncomfortable and so she closed them again. She heard voices nearby.

“It’s a Killjoy from the east.” A stern voice spoke.

“Another Killjoy? Why attack us?”

“No clue but she was carrying a pretty deadly gun.” The stern voice sounded angrier with each word. “We should kill her. Send a message.”

“No. If she was here then she was here for good reason.” A third voice interjected.

Her head was splitting. She could feel the swelling on her forehead from where she’d been struck. Opening her eyes again she felt her vision burn as blood dripped into them. There was a metallic table set before her and sitting on the other side of it were two men. She’d never seen either one of them before but from the scowl on the one’s face she guessed he’d had the stern words in regards to her. Everything he wore was lined with fur which she thought was silly out in the desert. There was no way he wasn’t sweating.

Making an attempt to stand she found her hands were cuffed and the chain was looped behind her through the bars of the chair she sat on. Momentarily she thrashed to try and escape but stopped quickly. There was no point. All she would accomplish was hurting herself and wasting energy. Her head was spinning and she felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in this position only this time the people on the other side of the table were supposed to be her allies.

“You came here to murder Tiger Beatdown, didn’t you?” The stern man spoke calmly but his face was filled with irritation. He wanted to kill her where she sat. He had no interest in hearing her explanation but something was keeping him from doing so. Behind him she saw Tiger Beatdown himself leaning against the wall. He said nothing but watched them curiously instead. She guessed that he was the reason that she wasn’t being beaten. A third man sat at the table, his teal leather jacket draped over the chair behind him.

“Hey. Pay attention to me.” Alpaca smashed his hand against the table. She recognized him now. Agent Alpaca, right hand man and best friend to Tiger Beatdown. Disco turned her attention back to him. She’d guessed his identity well enough. “Did you or did you not come to kill Tiger Beatdown?” Disco turned her attention back to Agent Alpaca as he slammed his fists on the table before her. “Yes or no!”

She stared at him blankly. While she had decided not to take the shot, she was loyal to Party Poison. She wouldn’t be giving them the satisfaction of an answer.

“Where did you find such a sophisticated weapon?” Agent Alpaca placed the gun onto the table piece by piece. It was useless taken apart like it was. Disco didn’t even bother to look down at it, she kept her eyes on Agent Alpaca’s, narrowed, her face calm.

“She won’t answer you.” The man seated next to Alpaca scowled. Disco would wait to see what their judgment decided upon. Either punish her or execute her. She didn’t care either way. When she hadn’t taken that shot, she had sealed her fate and prepared herself for every outcome.

“She will or we’ll start cutting off fingers.” Alpaca stood and walked toward a cabinet on the far right and pulled out a tray of tools.

“Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” Tiger Beatdown interrupted, his voice smooth and soft in comparison to his counterpart. He didn’t move but he did look at her for the first time since she’d woken up. He seemed sympathetic.

“She’s not going to answer you. There’s point in reasoning with her.” Agent Alpaca set down the tray in frustration.

“Quiet, Alpaca. I repeat: Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? I’m sure you had a good shot. I let my guard down. Hell, I wasn’t even wearing my helmet. We could barely see ten feet around us with all that dust. That scope gave you quite the advantage.” Tiger sounded like he was kicking himself. “I should have been more careful.” Disco didn’t see the harm in answering this question. The answer had been plaguing her anyway.

“I was told that you’d turned sides and were worthy of my gun. You’ve been shipping orphans to the Dracs. Turning on your own. You’ve been bought.” She answered, voice monotone. “I would have taken the shot but you were feeding children with the food from our last raid. Why would you be sharing your personal store with these kids you were going to sell? Helping them take shelter from the storm? I decided in the moment that there must be some miscommunication.”

The room fell silent. Tiger eyed her from against the wall then looked to his men with a sigh. “Alpaca? Lucky? Go. Make sure everything’s secure before the storm hits. I’ll take it from here.”

“Tiger, I strongly advise against this. She is an assassin who left many of our men unconscious out in the desert, leaving our perimeter at risk.” Agent Alpaca sat upright with a clear frown on his face. “Allow me to at least sit in for protection.”

“I appreciate your worry, Alpaca, but I’m fine. Dismissed.” Tiger Beatdown waited for Alpaca and Lucky to leave the room before he took one of the seats. He folded his hands neatly on the table before him and tilted his gaze toward the woman who had been captured during an assassination attempt. His messy brown hair fell around his face over dark eyes. He watched her curiously and Disco did not turn her gaze. She was waiting for the axe to drop, for the pins to fall.


	3. Kaboom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party Poison! At last! The leader of the Killjoys gives a big "fuck you" to the assholes at Better Living Industries. When faced with possible corruption within his ranks he goes to sort his thoughts out with a distraction. The distraction is a far bigger one than he anticipates.

His hands froze up while he worked in spite of the leather gloves he wore. Hazel eyes had adjusted to the dim light hours ago. Boxes and crates were stacked to the ceiling of the factory in rows. Each box had the same round black smiling logo staring at him. Eventually he’d begun to deface the logo in a big red X with a can of spray paint. He hated that godforsaken fake smile. Now that he’d spent hours in the warehouse it felt like the damn thing was staring at him, watching him. If he had the time then he would have spray painted every single one of those smiling bastards until they were all dripping red.

The lid of the crate before him lay to the side as he worked inside it. He adjusted the small booklight that he’d duct taped to his arm earlier so that he could better see within the crate. It was filled with bottles of pills. On top of these pills was now a metallic mess of wires he’d added, along with some plastic explosives. Every so often the booklight would move out of position so this had been about the thousandth time he’d readjusted. In hindsight, a flashlight would have been better. This had seemed like a good idea at the time and he was known to be impulsive.

He hummed as he connected the wires and synced the whole thing to the trigger he kept in his pocket. This had been about the thirtieth time he’d done that since he’d gotten to the warehouse. The pills in the crate he was working in were painkillers; not the low-grade stuff either but the kind that someone with an addiction would pay incredible money for. This was the kind of medicine they were giving out like candy in Battery City these days. These small pills wouldn’t just take away the pain of physical suffering, but they’d numb the mind as well. On top of that, they were highly addictive and nearly impossible to separate from once the addiction had set in. Withdrawal was torturous.

A door creaked in the distance and a sliver of light filled the room. He was extra careful and stopped humming. Very calmly, he finished his work setting up the explosive with quick and experienced hands. He grabbed a couple bottles of pills and shoved them into the pocket of his blue leather jacket while simultaneously drawing his yellow laser pistol with his other hand. Aiming it through the shadows he saw the silhouette of a man approaching. The gait of the man was familiar so he stepped out of the shadows but did not lower his weapon.

“It’s me.” The shadow spoke as it stepped into view. Red jacket, slim figure, and bleach blond hair made the man instantly recognizable. “Party Poison, it’s me, Kobra Kid.” The man furrowed his brow at his older brother. Party Poison didn’t respond but did put his laser pistol back into the holster on his hip. Slipping his fingers through his dirty, bright red hair, he then ran his hand over the shaved black sides before it fell back into his face. He didn’t acknowledge his younger brother but merely turned back to his work.

He’d been careful throughout the last few hours, diligent about his work. It seemed just plain irresponsible that Kobra had followed him. It had to have been important. Making a sound of disapproval, he bent low over the crate to be closer to the crude explosive. He fixed the wires then replaced the lid on the crate. Shaking the can of spray paint, he sprayed a big red X over the face on top. _Fuck these guys._

“I know you’re busy but there’s something I…” Kobra Kid stopped mid-sentence and cocked his head curiously. Party Poison adjusted his jacket so that the pill bottles stuffed into his pocket wouldn’t be so obvious. “Innoculess?” His voice and face both disapproved of him having those pills. “I thought you were off those things.”

Party Poison looked to Kobra in disgust then picked the near empty duffel bag back up and carried it a few rows away. Opening another crate, he pulled another device from the duffel bag and placed it atop the bottles of pills. It was _obvious_ that he wasn’t taking the pills. It was true that he had once been their victim when he’d been experimenting a few years back and so riddled with anxiety that he’d looked to them for the cure. But that had been ages ago. It’d been over a year since he’d touched anything addictive with the exception of an occasional drink. Just because he was _off_ of them didn’t mean he was above making a profit off of people who weren’t.

“They’re to sell, then? Is that it?”

“Why did you follow me, Kobra?” Poison interrupted, not looking up from his project in the crate. This was the last one. He’d spent the last several hours sticking thirty-one of these devices into the huge warehouse that sprawled across the first zone in the north. If all went according to plan then they’d go off five minutes after he pressed the trigger and the whole warehouse would be blown to fucking kingdom come. Kobra Kid followed him, suspiciously.

“Is that a booklight taped to your arm?”

“Yes.”

“…is that _my_ booklight?”

“Is that important right now?”

“Poison, that’s my booklight, isn’t it?” Kobra tried to pull it off of his arm and Poison turned to face him and stepped away. Holding a finger up with his left hand he took a step further back as if to warn his brother not to take the light. They stared each other down for a few seconds.

“Why are you here, Kobra?”

“I heard from Death-iNation today. I met with him on the outskirts of Battery City.”

“Alone? You’re insane. The bounty on your head there is almost as much as mine. You should have sent someone else.” Party Poison turned back to his brother before turning back to the crate and his work.

“I didn’t want to put anyone else at risk. Nor do I trust anyone else with Death-iNation’s information.”

“And?”

“I have substantial evidence that Tiger Beatdown has turned.” Finally, Party Poison’s interest was struck. He stopped messing with the explosive and leaned against the edge of the crate. The weight of his brother’s statement hung heavily on his shoulders. Party Poison was the leader of the Killjoys. Long ago he’d taken up headquarters in the east while Tiger Beatdown had been given control in the west. They were allies and had been for a very long time. If what Kobra was saying was true then they had to prepare for the worst. His brother wouldn’t lie and Death-iNation was probably their most successful and trustworthy sleeper cell.

“What’s your proof?”

“It’s undeniable. Shipping reports. Conversation transcripts. Photographs.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Pretty bad. Orphan trafficking, contaminated water in the second zone, aiding the Dracs, and a shit ton of lies.”

Party Poison stared at the crate for a long moment before finishing up his work. Then he replaced the lid on the crate. Kobra Kid shifted uncomfortably, peeking over his shoulder. This was a new prototype that Fun Ghoul had designed and he knew that Kobra was wary of explosives. Poison wished his brother would stop fidgeting so much. He had gotten this far undetected; it would be a shame to be caught _now_. “What do you think we should do? We can’t just ignore this.”

“I stole your booklight. Sue me.” Party Poison ripped the duct tape off of the light and then handed it back to his brother. He smirked but it faded quickly. The duffel bag laid abandoned at his feet, useless.

“Poison…”

“I need to think on it and see the evidence. Right now…” Poison dusted his hands off and pulled the detonator out of his pocket. With a smirk, he pulled the trigger and heard the machine click in the crate he’d just covered. “We have about five minutes to get really fucking far away from here.”

“Shit, Poison…” Kobra turned at once and together they ran through the maze of boxes back toward the entrance that Kobra Kid had snuck in through. It had been a risk setting off the bombs before he’d even left the building but the adrenaline rush had been more than worth it. The brothers ran through the building, double checked the entrance, then ran for the chain link fence at the far end of the compound. They climbed over the fence and kept running toward the next one. Better Living Industries went to extreme lengths to keep people out but that had never stopped the Killjoys.

“Hurry up,” Poison shouted as he made that last leap over the top of the final chain link fence. It was too late. Kobra Kid went flying off of the top of the fence and landed next to Poison with a thud. Poison, too, had fallen backwards with the force of the brilliant explosion that rang before them. His ears were ringing. Thankfully he’d had earplugs in but Kobra was coughing and holding his ears in annoyance.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Party Poison got back to his feet and watched the fire and smoke engulf the building. Kobra dusted himself off and stood next to his brother. Sirens hadn’t gone off. Not a single guard had set off the alert. Party Poison felt a sick sort of satisfaction knowing that he’d done such an efficient job. There was a reason he was leader of the Killjoys.

“I need some time to think and some air,” Party Poison said while he watched the building burn, mesmerized by the brilliant colors that the drugs made when they burned. He turned his back to his brother and started away from the blaze. It wasn’t air he needed but he knew if he told his brother what he was actually going to do then Kobra would insist on coming with him. There was a party in the eastern second zone that night and Party Poison was _known_ to get into trouble. The last time he’d gone out he’d nearly gotten the girl he was with killed and lost his favorite raygun. It’d been worth it, since he’d gotten what he’d wanted from that woman before she’d run off in fear. His need had been satisfied and that had been what mattered. He sure did miss that raygun though. “Gather the evidence to show me back at home.”

Kobra Kid didn’t follow him so he returned to where he’d parked on the outskirts of the zone. The drive to where the party in the second zone was supposed to be wasn’t long and by the time he got there, he’d done far too much thinking.

The chill breeze of the night air assaulted his face so he pulled up the collar of his jacket. He needed a shave. Pulling the flyer from his pocket he checked the directions before tossing the flyer aside. It was beneath an old storeroom. He had until about two in the morning before the exterminators would be making the rounds in search of anyone suspicious and stupid enough to be out that late. Poison would be long gone by then unless he found an exceptionally good time. Then, it would be worth it to deal with the exterminators.

The storeroom looked like little else from the outside. Windows black, door half cracked open, it gave the illusion that it was abandoned. He slipped through the opened door and then down the steps nearby but even from there he could hear the music. Opening the door, he was slammed with the barrage of music, drinking, and people. He closed the door behind him to drown out the sound as the bouncer nearby nodded in recognition. People went through a lot of trouble to setup parties.

Poison didn’t recognize the bouncer but the bouncer recognized him so he was grateful for that. Most of them knew him those days but they were all the same to him. A means to an end. They didn’t wear masks and as far as Poison was concerned, masks were more important than faces. He didn’t wear his there for that same reason. Not wanting to be recognized. His yellow mask was iconic.

Party Poison walked around the huge crowd dancing and glanced toward a makeshift bar at the other end of it. The floor shook with the music playing, lights strobing. If he’d had some glowsticks or body paint then it would have made an excellent rave. Glancing at his coat pocket he made sure the pills were still secure. It was a little funny that he’d gone from addict to peddler so naturally.

When he thought about it, he’d really traded one set of addictions for another. Sex was at least easier to maintain than the drugs had been with far fewer side effects if he was careful, which he was. Once on the other side he leaned against the wall and searched the crowd both dancing and near the bar for a target. There were plenty of pretty girls but none of them caught his eye. Blank faces.

No matter what he did he couldn’t get Kobra’s voice out of his head. Gritting his teeth, he shook it off. He did his best thinking while he was doing other things and he _hoped_ that once he’d finished _doing_ that thing then he could figure out what to do about Tiger. He had to be less picky. Three women danced nearby together in a circle but getting them apart would be a nightmare. Another was falling over herself nearby, throwing herself at a man at the bar. Too easy.

Then he found her. Not a blank face. She sat at the bar, alone, drink in her hand like she was thinking over something very important. Even from there he could see the gears turning behind her eyes. She looked like the type that would reject him but that was half the fun. Her whole demeanor was tough, hardened, and judging by the fact that there was no one sitting next to her he would guess that most men had been too intimidated to try even though Poison thought she was quite pretty.

He contemplated selling the pills first so he could put his whole focus on her but there was a chance he’d lose her. Now that he’d seen her, he had to have her. Besides, primal instincts trumped someone else’s addiction. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tight jeans and walked through the crowd to the bar. Taking the seat next to her he tapped one hand atop the counter.

“Refill the woman’s drink.” With a sly smile he nodded to the bartender. As he looked her over, he heard a comical ding-ding-ding in his head. He’d struck the jackpot. Blue eyes, black hair with fiery red stripes. Her black and orange outfit made her look like she was on fire and she was tapping her fingers against the bar to the music. She instantly rolled her eyes at his offer. Her annoyance wasn’t a turn off, in fact, it was quite the opposite.

She looked him over after the bartender had refilled her drink with whiskey then scoffed and turned away. This wasn’t over yet. It had barely started. He could smell the alcohol on her breath and some kind of perfume beneath it and his smirk only grew. As she sighed, he thought for certain that she instantly knew what kind of a man he was and he laughed in surprise beneath his breath.

“Thanks, but not interested.” She turned back to her drink and took a sip from it. Everything about her was screaming to be left alone.

“You’re very welcome. I never pass up the opportunity to spoil a pretty lady.” He leaned against the counter and declined the bartender’s offer for a drink of his own. It was far easier to manipulate drunks when he _wasn’t_ drunk. Besides, what he was after was far more satisfying a high anyway. The woman looked to him skeptically then returned to her drink. “How’s it possible that no one else has offered you a drink tonight? Pretty girl such as yourself.” He knew that if flattery didn’t work then he’d have to switch gears. Any response helped, even a negative one.

“You’re my third free drink.” She offered little else but she had _talked_ and that was all the encouragement Poison needed.

“Oh, really? So, what became of all those men who tried before me?” He did his best to be charming, to speak just quietly enough that she had to lean closer.

“You’ll see.” She had a hint of a smile on her lips which he noticed were split on one side. Something about her was intriguing, different. He hadn’t been challenged or intrigued by anyone in a very long time. Rejection was half the fun of the chase.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Well, because I’m different.” He lied to her face but it might get her to at least listen to him for a little bit. “I didn’t come here to flirt with you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I came to ask your opinion on something.”

“A stranger at the bar? Hmm? If I needed an opinion, I don’t think I’d be asking some random person especially at the bar.”

“Funny, because a pretty woman with a few drinks in her system is exactly the kind of opinion I was looking for.” Poison smirked. Since she wasn’t leaving or yelling at him, he figured he had at least piqued her interest.

“I know these people who work together to solve problems. Some of the things they do are a little morally gray but overall, they’re good people. The guys in charge were really close in the beginning but it’s been a few years and they’ve drifted apart.” Party Poison was surprised with himself. None of that was a game. It was all the truth. When he’d first joined up with the Killjoys, he’d been too young to understand the truth of what they were doing. When he’d become their leader, he’d known it was impossible to do it alone. Now they were in trouble because it wasn’t just him. He didn’t want to believe what he’d heard about Tiger Beatdown. The woman turned to him just slightly on her chair, one elbow against the bar, the other holding her drink. She was small. He could probably pick her up. Fun.

“So, they find out that one of the leaders has done some bad things. Really bad things. Things he swore he stood against. Things that his friends don’t think he’s capable of. What do they do? Trust that this man is a good man? Or take action? Either jeopardizes the whole group.” He turned back to her. He could have made something up. Why hadn’t he?

“If it were me and someone was putting my business, my life in jeopardy I don’t think it would matter how good a man I thought they were. Confrontation is the only solution. No rumors. Just truth.” She finished her drink and tapped the bar as if contemplating another. Party Poison thought about it. She was right.

“You’re as smart as you are pretty.” Poison stood and offered her a hand. “I think you earned a dance.” He didn’t wait for her to object. Instead, he grabbed her gloved hand and pulled her with him toward the large group of people dancing all around them. She didn’t seem to fight him very much either.

Hands on her hips, he pulled her close and brushed his hands over the sides of her corset. There was something square and heavy hidden along the side of it. A secret pocket? He brushed his fingers over it and pulled her closer as they moved to the music and while she swatted his hand away, he urged it back. He often liked to steal little things from the women he hooked up with so he could look back on the moment. It struck him, then, that it was probably not normal or healthy, but no one was doing anything they didn’t want to do so what was the harm?

But this woman was wary of him and he had to be careful. She was moving his hands away in the moment, refusing to let him stay close. She’d notice if he was digging in her pocket. Unless he distracted her. So, with one hand he urged her close and finally he found her laughing and not shoving him back. For a second, he admired her smile, before he urged his hand under the back of her short jacket and over her side, and knew exactly what kind of reaction he was bound to get. His other hand artfully slipped the small heavy something out of the pocket and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans.

“Fuck off, asshole.” She shoved at his hand copping a feel and gave him a nasty look. For a fleeting moment he worried she’d noticed him stealing from her but from the look of disgust and the way she pulled her jacket, he knew his distraction had worked. The truth was, she looked like if she _didn’t_ want him to touch her then she would punch him right in the mouth.

“Well, you see, I got the opinion I wanted so now I’ve decided to… steal your heart.” He gave her his best sweet smile and rested one hand over his chest. They were practically yelling to each other over the music and no one cared. He urged her closer to him and she seemed to very carefully contemplate his words before pushing him away again.

“I don’t sleep with addicts,” she said pointedly and then started to push through the crowd of people dancing. Party Poison stopped in his tracks. _What?_ He hurried after her. What the hell made her think that?

“I’m not an addict.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her back to him in the sea of people. She was small but he, for some reason, knew just how to find her.

“The pills in your pocket and your attitude beg to differ.” She shoved his hand away and continued forward. He touched his coat pocket and frowned. It was hard to see them there! She must have noticed while he’d been distracted at the bar. He hadn’t been called an addict in over a year and the word shook him. Slipping his hand nervously through his hair he thought about letting her go but damnit, she was ruining everything. Part of him was annoyed, the other part excited.

He followed her and made his way through the dancing, sweaty mob of people and found her walking into another room. Catching up to her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer than before, one hand around her waist, the other at the back of her neck to force her close enough so he could speak in a hushed voice. His heart pounded in his chest. She was so close. He’d never had to try this damn hard before. People were watching, but didn’t seem to think it was more than a lover’s quarrel.

“And how did you know about my pills?” He gave her his best growl. While he didn’t want her to think it was okay to go talking about what he was doing he hadn’t meant to sound so threatening either. It didn’t seem to matter because all she did was narrow her eyes at him.

“Not hard to recognize dealers and addicts if you know what they look like. Knew you were one or the other the moment you sat down.” She challenged him, tilting her face up closer to his. He could feel her breath and tensed his stomach, running his tongue over his teeth.

“And you think I’m an addict, then?” He moistened his lips and watched her oddly calm blue eyes. There were storms brewing behind them and he _liked_ it.

“Well now you’ve played your hand, dealer.” She wasn’t crushed beneath his accusation, in fact she more than rose to the occasion. Every nerve in Poison’s body was telling him to push her against the wall and go for it but he knew, just knew that wouldn’t work. He still had a chance at this if he could keep the blood from rushing away from his brain long enough. Some women liked danger. He could see her being into that.

“…does that scare you?” A smirk curled on the edge of his lips, one side a little higher than the other.

“You definitely _don’t_ scare me.” Much to his surprise he saw a hint of a cocky smile on _her_ lips. There was no way the tension was in his head. “I don’t think you could scare anyone with those eyes.” She leaned just a bit closer and now he _knew_ she was playing with him.

“Appearances can be deceiving. Maybe you _should_ be afraid.” He wouldn’t back down. It wasn’t like him. Some called him stubborn. He preferred dedicated. She laughed and bit her lower lip then pushed his hand away from the back of her neck.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to him. There was nothing to say. No argument he could make to convince her to stay but it appeared he didn’t need to find one. Her wrist went slack so he let go and she didn’t pull away. In fact, she placed her hand right against his stomach and he instinctively tensed up. His hand was nearly as big as her face as he rested it against her cheek and urged her chin upward. Eyes drifting closed, his lips barely touched hers. For a brief moment he felt a spark shoot all the way through him.

“Poison!” A voice called his name and he pulled back. Turning away he caught sight of his brother through the crowd and about a hundred curses slipped through his mind. He’d been so _damn close_. “Poison.” He pushed his hair back and swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to shake off the tension he’d built up.

“Fuck, Kobra. What the hell? I’m kinda busy. Can’t you see that?”

“It’s important.”

Poison sighed heavily. His fun was over for the night but it didn’t mean he couldn’t still get what he wanted. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be just a second.” He turned to the woman who was half in his arms but now looking away. He let her go, at last, and then walked away with Kobra to the next room and into a quiet corner. “What’s so damn important you’d _track_ me here.”

“First of all, you’re predictable. Second of all, Jet-Star and his men were attacked by Killjoys on the border of Zone Three. The attackers were wearing identifiers of Killjoys from the west. Something needs to be done. This can’t wait for you to get off with some stranger.” Kobra sounded urgent but looked nervous.

“Fine. I’ll take care of it. Just let me finish one more damn thing before you kill all the fun.” Poison didn’t wait for his brother to agree and instead returned to the party. Kobra followed behind him anyway, which annoyed him to no end. There was no sign of the woman he’d been with and he cursed mentally. Something stark white against the wall caught his eye and he saw a napkin taped to it. There was a lipstick kiss and a note scribbled beneath it.

Cursing, he frantically checked his pockets in realization that he’d been played. The pills were gone. She’d stolen them from him! “Fuck!” He cursed. How could he be so stupid? That was why she’d relented, why she had known he was either a dealer or an addict, why she’d noticed the damn pills in the first place! Took one to know one, didn’t it? He pulled the napkin note off of the wall and urged it close.

“Thanks for the drink,” he groaned in frustration. He should have known better. Damn. He was too busy following his libido to notice. He slipped the note into his pocket and pulled out the lighter he’d stolen from her. It was old and decorated in drawings in bright reds and oranges. He flicked the flame to life and watched the fire dance above it. He could see marks from where her fingers had struck the lighter many times. It had to have meant something to her. She’d been playing him. Damn. He wished he didn’t think that was hot. “Interesting.”

“What do we do, Poison?”

Party Poison turned to face his brother at last before shoving the lighter back into his pocket. “Call Disco. And show me the evidence.”


	4. Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiger Beatdown's POV for the whole thing thus far. What a tangled web we weave.

A thick wall of sand made it impossible for him to see more than a few feet in front of him. Still, he knew where he was going. He’d walked the path so many times he was sure that if he looked hard enough then he would find his own footprints in the sand. He hung his head low as he pulled the black and orange tiger striped helmet off and tossed it to the side. Considering how much he had already lost that day, losing the helmet didn’t bother him. He began the painstaking removal of the gas mask on his face but his bloodied and scraped fingers made the task difficult. It caught in his hair as he pulled it away but that didn’t stop him. The gas mask fell to the ground next to the helmet.

He stopped just before the barrier of his camp, the one he had devoted the last decade of his life to. The barrier wasn’t an actual barrier like the Killjoy camp in the east had, no it was more of an unspoken line in the sand. There were guards positioned around its entirety but they generally remained hidden in hopes of spotting intruders. Much of his camp was underground. Sandstorms happened much more frequently in the west than they did in the east.

Turning away, he reached into his pocket and withdrew bloodstained dog tags from his leather jacket. The four men he’d left with earlier that week to track supplies in the Sixth Zone hadn’t survived.

He’d been setup.

His usually reliable contact in Battery City had been wrong. There had been nothing waiting for them in the sixth zone except for sand and poison. When there was no sign of any supply truck, he’d had them fall back. There had been no reason to think it was a trap. Sometimes misinformation spread, even to Killjoys. His fingers wrapped tighter around the dog tags.

They’d once been used only by the United States military but now that they lived beneath the regime of Better Living Industries that had changed. Instead, people were identified by chips beneath their flesh. Killjoys dug those out before initiation. Now they wore dog tags to keep track of who was one of them and who wasn’t. Tiger Beatdown had been the one to suggest it long ago, before he’d been appointed leader in the west. When a Killjoy died in battle it was an unspoken code to take their dog tag and either memorialize it on the wall of the fallen or give it to someone who truly cared for them. The dog tag would be x-ed out and rendered invalid either way.

Four Killjoys had died that morning.

On their way back to camp they’d been ambushed by a large group of Dracs. They’d been outnumbered five to twenty. Even though they had been waiting for them, even though it had been a setup, the Dracs had underestimated them. When the dust settled the only one left standing had been him. The dust storm had buried his friends out in the sand.

A guard approached him so Tiger retrieved his gas mask and helmet before trudging to meet him. On his way back he’d seen the dark clouds coming in from the ocean. They’d likely carry acid and that was the last thing they needed. He hoped, with any luck, the clouds would turn south but Tiger Beatdown had never been lucky.

At least he had some time to warn people about the storm. They were easily avoided with proper cover but there were precautions still to be taken. The guard walked past him and continued on his rounds. Tiger was soon joined in stride by his close friend, Agent Alpaca. They had known each other for years, even before either of them had joined the Killjoys.

“Where are the others?” Alpaca’s voice sounded sad, like he already knew the answer. Tiger was an obvious mess. It wouldn’t be very difficult to figure out what had happened. Tiger stopped walking and turned toward his friend then placed the bloodstained dog tags into the man’s gloved hand and turned away. He needed air. No matter how far he got from the outer zones he still felt suffocated. “Damn.” Alpaca turned the tags over in his hand and then slipped them into his pocket. “This isn’t right. Those men didn’t deserve to die.” He followed Tiger Beatdown through the sand and back out toward the barrier, past underground bunkers.

There were still building above ground, but most of the camp was connected by tunnels underground. These buildings were marked and decayed by the frequent acid storms.

“Clouds are rolling in from the west. Looks like they’re heading this way.” Tiger broke the silence that followed. “Tomorrow night probably. Could turn south. Not sure. Big storm, not sure if it’ll carry acid. Spread the word and tell the others to dress heavy.”

“I’ll spread the word when I place the tags on the memorial after marking them off.” Alpaca seemed apprehensive but Tiger couldn’t care why. If he had something to say, Alpaca would say it. The man was brutally honest no matter the circumstances. “I hate to pile on but we’ve received reports from several sources that Party Poison has gone rogue.” Tiger Beatdown stopped in his tracks and immediately rejected the idea.

“Poison? Not a chance. Never met anyone more dedicated to our cause.”

“There are reports of executions in the east. Leading by example, they were told.” Agent Alpaca interrupted sympathetically but with a bite to his voice. Tiger Beatdown had been told time and again he was far too trusting. “I know that you’re friends with the guy but that was a long time ago. People change.”

“Not Poison. He’s not that guy.”

“People change, Tiger. Not always for the better.”

“Would you say the same about me, Alpaca?” Tiger Beatdown couldn’t help but offer a weak smile.

“You know very well that you’ve changed over the years but I never said that all change is bad. In your case, it’s a good thing.”

Tiger walked to the small worn-down building on the outskirts of the camp. Inside was a door that led underground and into his small home. It was less like a home and more like a place for him to sleep and eat since he hadn’t done much to settle into it. He was rarely there anyway.

“Regardless of what you think we can’t let sleeping dogs lie. We need to at least investigate what’s going on in the east. If there’s any truth to these claims then we need to band together and take action.”

“Don’t say things you might regret, Agent Alpaca, you never know whose listening.” Tiger sighed and leaned against the door. “Raise the guard around the perimeter. Warn everyone that there’s something suspicious going on. Trust no one, not even other Killjoys unless they are certain to be trustworthy. Visitors, including out of camp Killjoys are to be interviewed by either you, me, or one of our trusted Killjoys. Got it? No exceptions.”

“Good.” Alpaca seemed at last satisfied. “I’ll meet up with you later.” He gave his friend a pat on the shoulder before walking away. Tiger watched him go and then sat down against the wall near his front door. He pushed his dirty hair from his face and let his hand rest in his hand for a moment. There was too much to think about and yet he couldn’t concentrate on anything. The dark clouds billowed in the distance. Wind from the oncoming storm created and orange haze of sand near the edge of the zones. Sitting there dwelling on the bad was no good for him. He had to get up and do something.

Tiger went inside his home and propped the door open with his helmet. Descending into the underground room that he called his he grabbed a dirty old backpack from the edge of his bed and began to fill it up with some of the food that had been reserved as his. He grabbed his helmet and started back toward the perimeter of the camp.

“Storm’s coming from that way, what are you doing, Tiger?” Agent Alpaca’s voice called to him.

“The orphanage on the edge of the zone by the refugee camp doesn’t know about the storm. They’ll need extra food and to know to stay underground. How to tell it’s over.”

“You shouldn’t go alone after what we suspect is happening in the east! We’re all targets now, especially you!” Alpaca stepped in his way.

“I can take care of myself. Those kids can’t. No one ever holds their hand for a damn thing.” Tiger walked around his friend. This was a distraction and he knew it. The world was falling apart and he needed something, anything, that was good and pure. If Party Poison had truly turned then they were all as good as dead. Alpaca followed him, catching up and joining his stride once more.

“If you won’t listen to reason then I’ll join you.” Their walk continued mostly in silence. Alpaca tried, every so often, to make conversation but Tiger didn’t feel much like talking. There was plenty to deal with, plenty to do, but for the moment he felt it okay to ignore. Once he’d seen the children and the refugees then sure, he would do what he needed to.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see it. The blood spraying on the sand as his friends, his men, died. He could hear their cries. Their bloodstained faces and dead eyes stared back at him with each blink. It would scar him for a long time to come. If he sat and thought about it too hard then he’d lose it and right now there was no time for that.

Opening the gate that surrounded the old building he stopped. The windows were boarded up and decorated with graffiti. A few old toys lay in the dirt, looking like they had long ago outlived their use. Tiger walked closer to the building and Alpaca stood guard near the gate.

Tiger tapped three times on the door. A little blond girl opened the door and peaked out at him suspiciously with green eyes. Then she ran to him, a big smile on her face, and hugged his legs. The kids all recognized him. He’d been the one to help smuggle half of them out of the city. Crouching, he leaned to hug the little girl in return. Those kids had been through so much that it was hard to remember that they were just children sometimes. Moments like this brought Tiger home. They were still innocent no matter where they’d come from.

The next hour was spent talking with the kids about silly, trivial things, playing games. He warned them about the storm that was coming and had taught them how to prepare. The food that he’d brought with him had been packed away underground with the exception of a few cans that Tiger opened immediately to share with them. Agent Alpaca kept talking to the other guards that had joined him but Tiger would ignore that until he couldn’t.

It wasn’t long before the guards and Alpaca disappeared, leaving Tiger alone with the kids. He was helping them clean up and put their toys back inside when the transmitter on his belt began singing with trouble. There was an intruder, an assassin, and she’d been caught. Worse than that:

She was a Killjoy.

“What made you think I was worthy of death in the first place?” Tiger looked to the woman across the table from him curiously. He’d been lost in thought about a great number of things. Mostly how he couldn’t believe that Party Poison had truly abandoned his cause. This woman had been sent to kill him so what else could it mean? If Poison had sent her then he should have been dead already. She looked to him curiously but didn’t speak.

She was hesitant and for good reason. If the tables had been turned, Tiger would have felt the same way. Part of him, however, knew that she wanted to talk. She’d already talked more than most assassins would have.

“A good man I’m close to told me that you’d turned. That you were selling children to the Dracs for testing. That you were squandering supplies, assigning Killjoys to Drac missions.”

Tiger frowned and his confusion was written all over him. Who would have said that? He couldn’t imagine anyone who would spread such misinformation. Anyone who knew anything about him knew he would rather die than see a child taken in by Better Living.

“And what made you change your mind?”

“I told you. I don’t think you were going to sell the very children you were giving food from your personal stores to. I heard your men talking about the oncoming storm. You were helping those kids. If you were going to sell them then what would be the point?” She didn’t hesitate but sounded irritated. Something in her eyes told him, however, that she trusted him. There was some kind of odd understanding that had happened somewhere along the line.

“What makes you think that I wasn’t just protecting merchandise?”

“I saw kindness. The kind you can’t fake. If I hadn’t then you would be dead and your men never would have caught me.”

“Kindness?” He looked to her curiously. “Kindness gets you killed.” He stood and then stepped out of the room without another look. He needed to think. A plan was formulating in his mind but he needed to sort out his thoughts. The Killjoys in the east seemed to think he’d gone rogue but he had just gotten reports of the same thing in regards to Party Poison. Someone was telling lies. Had their numbers been infiltrated? It wouldn’t have been easy. Leaning against the wall, Tiger closed his eyes. “I should have killed her.”

He was confused. He hadn’t known the stranger for even an hour and was having second thoughts. They had an odd bond. Both of them had been duped by someone. Lasting friendships were difficult for him but now he had this unspoken connection with a complete stranger, one that had tried to kill him nonetheless. He should have called a meeting, should have shot her and told the others that was what happened to traitors. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Footsteps joined him from down the hall and Agent Alpaca joined him. He’d come to check on him and found him instead in the hallway.

“What do we do?”

“I’m letting her go.” Tiger cleared his throat and prepared himself for Agent Alpaca’s fury.

“She tried to kill you! She came here with a gun! A sophisticated gun and you’re going to just let her walk out of here?” Alpaca had always had a bit of a hot temper but in that moment, he was justified to be angry. “I told you earlier that we’d received reports of corruption in the east and proof shows up with a gun aimed at your damn head and you _still_ ignore it?”

“I’m not afraid to put you in your place simply because you’re my friend, Alpaca. I think we’re both being led on. The east received similar claims about me so why should I trust the same about him? I’m going to have her send a message to Party Poison directly. We can meet on neutral ground in the second zone. We’ll talk it out and if he’s corrupted then I’ll do what’s needed. I want to give him a chance to explain.” Tiger stepped away from the wall as the door to the interrogation opened.

The would-be assassin looked to him from behind it. She’d broken free of her bonds.

“I was listening through the door.” She closed it behind her and stepped into the hall. “I think you’re right. Someone must have lied to Party Poison and maybe that same person lied to you. I know that you won’t believe my word when I tell you Party Poison is far from corrupt… but I would like to help in any way that I can. Let me deliver your message with someone I trust in the east. Then we can meet with Poison in Zone Two. You could tell me no but if I’m free to go then you can’t stop me from following you.”

“She has a point. And she’s good with a gun. I think that’s fair.”

“Are you serious? You can’t honestly be telling me that you’re bringing along this stranger! A stranger who tried to _kill_ you! She could be a Drac in disguise for all we know.” Alpaca’s objections weren’t wrong but his voice was so irate that they just sounded silly.

“I’m going and she’s welcome to join me if that’s what she wishes to do. And she is free to walk amongst our people until the storm is over too. I’m sorry, madame, but I am not giving you back your weapons until we leave, just to be safe. Can I… know your name? Since I’ve made my decision there doesn’t seem to be any harm in it.”

“You’re going to laugh.” Her demeanor had changed greatly now that they weren’t enemies. In fact, she seemed rather jovial.

“Try me. He’s Agent Alpaca, can’t get much sillier than that.” Tiger pointed to his friend who stared at him in utter disbelief.

“That’s way worse than mine. Disco Bitch. Most people just call me Disco.”

“Well, you already know my name, Disco. So, I’d say we’re formally introduced. I’ll lead you to the mess hall so you can get some food and a bed. We’ll be pretty close to Battery City after all this so you need your strength.”

“Hold on just a fucking minute!” Agent Alpaca was astonished.

“What?”

“I’m coming with you! You’re out of your damn mind and I’m not going to let you get yourself killed just because some woman batted her eyelashes at you.” Alpaca spat defensively.

“That’s not it at all, Alpaca. You can join us, of course, but rest assured, she’s not the one I need defending from. Now come on. We need food and rest. Being in the second zone is more difficult than you would think.”


	5. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire Frenzy realizes she's been stolen from and boy, it's not pretty. Party Poison decides that he should do something very stupid and dangerous. Lord, I love them!

“Where the fuck is it?” The heavy shelf crashed to the ground with one push, its contents spilling with it. Getting down on her hands and knees, Frenzy searched through the dust and rubble. Upon not finding what she was looking for she smashed her fist into the steel wall, the sound reverberating through the room and the pain shooting up her wrist. She was covered in dirt from her search and the rest of the room looked like a crime scene. She’d been at it through the night and well into the morning. Pulling her short jacket off, she dug again through the pockets on her corset. It wasn’t there.

When was the last time she’d seen it? Her head was buzzing, screaming at her to find it, screaming about its importance. Nothing made sense. “Think, Frenzy. Think. Where is it? What did you do with the fucking lighter? You’re always careful with it. It has to be somewhere.” It wasn’t in her pockets but she’d already known it wouldn’t be given she had searched them a hundred times.

She’d had it in the bar. It had kept her from setting the shit-talking assholes on fire. Then she’d definitely had it afterwards when she’d torched their car. Then what? It was her security, her sanity, losing it was an unforgivable sin! Sitting on the filthy floor she cursed beneath her breath.

It wasn’t there.

She furrowed her brow and then stood, pulling drawers out of a cabinet nearby. They were filled with scraps of metal and screws, organized for when she worked. “Motherfucker!” She cursed and pulled her hand back to her chest and stepped away. Her hand stung painfully and she took deep breaths to keep from cursing but her heart still pounded. Peering into the drawer she caught sight of the rusted scrap metal that was now stained with a good amount of her blood. The red dripping along the rust was bewitching. What would it look like when it dried?

She could feel her heartbeat in her hand. Something about the pain calmed her racing heart. She knew that some people cut themselves for that very reason. It had never been her thing. Fire was. Still, it worked in a pinch. Finally, she looked at her bloodied palm and pulled away the fishnet glove that was now ruined. The wound was nasty looking and blood dripped between her fingers and down her wrist.

It stung but she wasn’t fazed by it. She carefully pulled to see how deep it was, pain radiating through her wrist and up her arm, leaving her twitching. It didn’t need stitches, she didn’t think. It hurt, that was for sure. She probably needed a tetanus shot to boot. That would come later. For now, there were more important things to deal with. Her lighter. She had to find it.

“I have to let it go.” She closed her eyes tight. It was often that she spoke to herself, a coping mechanism to keep from going insane with loneliness. Unfortunately, she’d gotten so used to doing so that she often couldn’t help but do it in public too. This had a tendency to frighten people but the truth was that Frenzy didn’t want or need friends.

“I can’t. I can’t.” She made a fist and the wound stung but it wasn’t enough. “Let it go, Frenzy. God damnit.”

_That night was especially cold in Battery City. The desert had a way of being sweltering during the day and frigid at night. She was bloodied, clothing torn and old._

“No,” she muttered in frustration and gripped the side of her head.

_“Stay in the flame.” The man dwarfed her, a shadow of a man, his face a blank mask she no longer remembered. He urged her small fingers around the lighter and then showed her how to bring it to life. Once lit it became her beacon._

“Wake up, Frenzy,” she spoke with her eyes closed. “Too long in dreamland and you’ll never come back.”

Her eyes opened.

She wouldn’t let it go. She couldn’t.

“I need to calm down. I can’t think like this. There’s too much yelling.” She shoved away from the drawer that had taken her blood and searched her bunker. It was a mess. In her panic, she’d created a whirlwind of disaster. She’d clean up. That would calm her down.

Carefully she pulled on a thicker glove to cover the wound. She’d deal with it later. Then she spent the next few hours putting her world back together. As she pushed the last shelf back into place and replaced the weapon parts it hit her. “He took it. Son of a bitch, he took it.”

The drug dealer in the bar. The one she’d stolen the pills from. He’d been feeling her up, yes, but he’d been looking for something to steal. Probably some sort of sick fetish. It didn’t matter why, just that she knew where it was and had to get it back.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” she snarled, grabbing the open pill bottle on her desk and dumping a handful out. She’d taken them earlier but it didn’t do much to ease her pain or quiet her mind anymore. It did just enough to tamp down the rest of the damage she’d done over the years. Swallowing two more of the tablets dry she retrieved her jacket and cracked her neck.

Someone had called him. What was his name again? Her mind buzzed as she tried to remember. The damn pills. The side effects. Her short-term memory was garbage. There was no name but she knew a few of the people who attended the party that night. She’d ask about him, about the dealer with the red hair, blue jacket, and pretty hazel eyes. He’d regret stealing from her.

Revenge would be easy once she had her lighter back. If only he’d been an addict. Then he’d be easy to find. Dealers were more difficult since they had their wits about them. A chill ran down her spine. Another side effect. The numbness would help keep her calm.

“Maybe Harvey knows him. Harvey knows everyone, Frenzy.” She slipped her jacket back on and then pulled on her black mask, tying a bandana over her nose and mouth. “Everyone worth knowing, at least.”

She got on the back of her motorcycle and before she knew it, she was parking outside of the bar that she’d abandoned earlier that night in fear that she might burn it down. It was called ‘Turn Back’ an apt name for the last bar in the zones before the air was too dangerous to breathe. Harvey would likely scold her for what she’d done earlier that night but wouldn’t kick her out either. He had a high tolerance for her bad behaviors. They had an agreement. She wouldn’t burn down his bar, start fires in his bar, or kill people in his bar and she would always be allowed refuge.

He’d even said she could kill people in the back room if she really had to as long as she cleaned up after herself. Very generous, Frenzy considered. The ride seemed over in a flash. The pills again. There were days where she wished she hadn’t done half the things she’d done to herself for the sake of a cause no one would properly understand.

Without her lighter, her hands shook. She felt like part of her had been ripped away. What would have been worse? Losing the lighter or withdrawal? She wasn’t sure. At least it wasn’t both at the same time. She parked right in front of the bar, jumped off of her motorcycle and then walked into the bar in spite of the ‘Closed’ sign hanging on the door. Harvey was restocking the shelves, his long hair pulled back into a lazy bun.

There were rarely any customers that early in the morning. “You know, I had to do about ten pages of paperwork after you left those cars burning.” Harvey knew it was her without looking. She didn’t reply and he turned toward her, his expression instantly changing. “Frenzy, are you okay?” He was instantly worried.

“I can’t find it.”

“What? What can’t you find, Frenzy?” He left his boxes half empty and cautiously stepped toward her as though handling a dangerous animal. “Frenzy, did you get in a fight?” She scratched at her wrist and felt the dried blood there. She’d nearly forgotten. The pills did a better job of numbing her than she thought.

“My lighter. That bastard took my lighter.”

Harvey carefully reached for her blood saturated glove and she pulled her hand back defensively.

“Who did? Who hurt you, Frenzy? What happened?”

“No one hurt me! I hurt me.” She immediately rejected the idea that Harvey thought she’d been assaulted. No one had hurt her. She was the one who did the hurting!

“Okay, calm down.” Harvey smiled cautiously. “Who took your lighter?”

“This drug dealer I robbed at a party. He stole it. Will you just… fucking not?” She pulled her hand back again. Harvey sighed and so she leaned her head back with a whine and offered him her hand. He wouldn’t let her leave without taking care of it. Another part of their deal. She supposed that she appreciated him taking care of her.

“You robbed a drug dealer? That’s moronic.”

“And who else do I steal drugs from, Harvey? Addicts need them and so do I. Dealers always have them and are less dangerous than production facilities.”

“You realize that _you_ are an addict, right?” Harvey urged her to take a seat at the bar so he could take care of her hand. She didn’t fight him.

“It’s different, Harvey.”

“You won’t tell me why.”

“You’re an enabler. You know that. Will you or won’t you help me find him? The alternative is I hunt down drug dealers and kill them until I find my lighter on the corpse of one,” she snapped. Her head was starting to pound. Without the lighter she felt lost and on edge. She kept flicking her fingers as though she still held it.

“No need to threaten, Frenzy. I’ll help you. I always help you, remember?”

“I need my lighter. You don’t understand.” She then let out a string of curses before gritting her teeth as Harvey poured alcohol over her wounded hand. Harvey smiled.

“Look at that. She is human.” He shook his head at the sight of her hand. “You need a tetanus shot and stitches. If it gets infected then you’re in trouble.”

“I’ll worry about that after I have my lighter.”

“You’re going to keep bleeding.”

“Just sew it with a little needle and thread in the middle and it’ll be fine. Will you help me?” Frenzy dismissed the idea of further medical attention. She would take care of it when her head was back on straight. He sighed and did as she asked and then wrapped the wound tightly with some gauze. “He had green eyes? At the time. Then brown by the end. Hazel, I suppose. That’s the word, right? I can’t seem to find the word.”

“You really need to get off those pills.”

“Hazel eyes,” she repeated.

“I can’t identify a drug dealer just by eye color, Frenzy.” Harvey couldn’t hide his smile. “Stare into them a lot or…?”

“Shut up and let me finish. Red hair, flaming red hair but black roots. Looked like he didn’t bathe much. Flirted a lot and thought himself charming. Put on a front. Blue jacket, patch on it? Of a horse maybe. Tan jeans, black boots…” Frenzy strained to remember more of him. The mental image was blurry but then very suddenly not. The eyes. She wouldn’t forget them.

“I don’t need anymore. You’re in trouble.” Harvey clicked his tongue in amusement. “He’s unmistakable. Just like you.” He let her hand go finally and then went to clean up the mess he’d made. “Party Poison. Comes in here sometimes with his brother Kobra. I generally kick them out if there are other patrons. They cause more grief than they’re worth.”

“Kobra? As in Kobra Kid?” Frenzy smirked as Harvey confirmed her suspicions. She knew how to find Kobra which means she’d know how to find the thief. “Thank you, Harvey. You’re the best.” She ignored the fact that Harvey looked to have about a thousand follow up questions and walked out of the bar. She’d worked with Kobra Kid quite frequently in the last few years.

Party Poison wouldn’t know what hit him.

***

He flicked the lighter and watched the flame illuminate his dark room. He’d stared at it for hours after Disco had left. The fuel inside would eventually run out but for some reason he couldn’t stop. That woman at the party had been madly in love with the lighter. The etchings had been done by hand and the drawings painted meticulously over and over again as they had faded. It was a piece of art. Humming to himself, he wondered what it was that had her fall so in love with it.

“Everybody hit the pyro cue…,” he hummed until he had a flow that he liked for it and then wrote the line down in the yellow notebook next to a few scribbled variations he’d disliked. He flicked the lighter to life and burned the edge of the paper. The fire spread and the edges turned black, curled, and then fell into ash.

“Writing again?” Kobra Kid’s voice interrupted as he opened the door to Party Poison’s small home. It wasn’t much. One room with all the amenities and a shower in the back behind a private curtain. Party Poison didn’t spend much time there other than to sleep or hide since no one ever looked for him there. That day was no exception. He’d been hiding so he could think but had found himself consumed by the lighter.

Fumbling with the small trinket, he closed it with a click and then shoved it in his pocket. His attempt to hide it had been too obvious and he winced at Kobra’s judgmental gaze. He sat waiting and Poison tried to recall what he’d asked. He couldn’t. His head was buzzing with lyrics and nerves.

“What?” Party Poison cleared his throat awkwardly and brushed the ash off of his pants but it stained them instead. What was it that made him keep thinking back to that moment at the party? She’d robbed him! She’d tricked him. Maybe that was it. She’d gotten the best of him and not many managed that. He’d have to pay her back.

“I asked if you were writing again.” Kobra pulled a chair from the table nearby and sat near his brother at his desk, propping black boots on it. Party Poison stared at him in confusion. What was he writing? “Music. Are you writing music? Your lyric notebook is right there and so I just assumed…?”

“Oh! Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I was writing. Inspired a bit.” He reached into his pocket and fumbled still with the lighter. The small fire symbols engraved on the top brushed against his thumb. He’d memorized it. “Figured it was something to do until I got word from Disco.”

“Been awhile since you wrote anything for Mad Gear.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence. Poison tapped his foot nervously, trying to not to look obviously occupied with what was in his pocket but his brother was watching him like a hawk. He hummed and scribbled in the yellow notebook again but in truth he wanted to fixate more on the lighter and how he would find its owner.

“If that’s what you were doing when why are you acting like I caught you with your hand in your pants?” Kobra slipped his feet off of the table and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Perv.” Poison didn’t want to answer the question. He knew Kobra would be pissed if he knew the real reason that he didn’t want to talk. There were important things happening and he should have been thinking about them. He was, but the distraction was nice too.

“Come on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Party Poison flipped the lighter onto the table for his brother to see. It spun and then laid flat. “I took it from that woman last night.”

“You mean the one who robbed you, right? While you were distracted by her ass?”

“Yep. Thanks for reminding me.” Poison grumbled as though he hadn’t been reliving the exchange all night and into the morning. He’d have to be more careful. Either he’d have to keep a better eye on women he picked up or he’d have to be more careful about what he had on him. Poison picked the lighter back up and then flipped it open.

“Wait, can I see that?” Kobra reached for the lighter but Poison pulled it protectively from his reach. “Put the eyebrows down and give me the damn lighter, Poison.” Kobra laughed.

Poison frowned. It was his. He loved it now. “Just don’t break it. I like it.” He offered the lighter to Kobra who had to tug it from his grip.

“You’re ridiculous.” Kobra examined the lighter. Poison stood and peered over Kobra’s shoulder, folding his arms over his chest. It was all he had of the woman at the party and he didn’t want to lose it. “…oh, Poison.”

“What?”

“You are a dumb fuck.” Kobra turned pale. “She’s going to kill you. She’s going to hunt you down and kill you. Do you know how fucking stupid you were for taking this?”

“Then you know her.” Poison ignored the more pressing information presented. He snatched the lighter back from Kobra and returned to his seat. His fingers brushed over the art. It was precious and beautiful.

“Yeah, I do and so do you. Enough to pay her. Arms dealer. Damn best one I know. Makes them herself. Little nuts, I have to say. Oh, and you probably know some of her work with fire too.” Kobra laughed in disbelief. “Hard to find but always worth the effort. Rarely communicates face to face so the fact that you ran into her at a party and stole her lighter is remarkable. That being said, um, Poison. You stole an arsonist’s lighter. Not just an arsonist but a mad as a hatter, loaded with weapons arsonist. She’s not going to think that’s funny.”

“It’s a _little_ funny.” Party Poison shrugged and offered a smirk. Only he would manage to run into and rob someone Kobra claimed so difficult to contact. “Where can I find her? I mean you must know how seeing that I’ve paid her before. Where do you usually meet?”

“Listen, Poison. This is a bad idea. You’re in over your head. Bring the lighter to a neutral third-party contact with an apology letter and let it go. Hope she doesn’t hunt you down and take your head in revenge.”

“I will take your idea into consideration.” Poison sparked the flame to life.

He wasn’t considering it.

“Don’t lie. You’re going to hunt her down just like I advised not to. We have much more important things going on, you know? I get that you want revenge but you don’t know her like I do. Don’t forget the fact that Tiger Beatdown is killing people and selling orphans and shit. We have to save the Killjoys, man. Sounds more important than some woman who never would have let you fuck her anyway.” Kobra sounded frustrated and Poison shrugged. “She was just robbing you, Poison.”

“Kobra.” Poison stood back up and slipped the lighter back into his pocket before adjusting the collar of his jacket. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve been running the Killjoys for years without you reminding me how to so don’t start now. No one talks to me like that, okay? You’re my brother so I’m not going to get pissed off or anything. Don’t question my loyalty or my authority, got it? I know what’s going on is serious but I can’t do shit until I hear from Disco. Would you rather I sit here twiddling my thumbs or I do something productive instead of fixating?” He thought it over again. She’d dressed like fire, just like the lighter. He’d thought that when he’d first met her too. He leaned against the wall near the door. “Have you heard from Disco?”

“No.” Kobra was tight-lipped. “I’m not trying to undermine you. I just want to protect you. You’re a great leader, Poison, but sometimes you get yourself into… trouble.”

“Everyone knows that. It hasn’t impacted my job here. I’m a dumb fuck sometimes. We’re all dumb fucks sometimes, Kobra. Everyone knows where I stand. I’m very plain about that. You really haven’t heard anything? It’s been hours. Not like her to not report in.” Party Poison was always more worried than he let on. Besides, he needed Kobra Kid to lay off if he wanted to learn more about the woman who owned the lighter.

“I’m worried too. She went dark hours ago after getting her gun. I’m thinking they killed her. Or she turned on us.”

“Disco wouldn’t turn on me. Not for someone who did what Tiger did. I trust her.” Party Poison knew that more than anything. Disco was as loyal as they came.

“Things aren’t the way that they were five years ago, Poison. You can’t trust anyone anymore.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Poison walked back to the table and retrieved his gloves and then grabbed his laser pistol before shoving it into the holster on his hip. He trusted his people. The world was, overall, a good place. “Now, where did you say you met that woman again?”

“Second zone near the old warehouse on Washington… wait, no, hey! I didn’t tell you shit.” Kobra frowned. “Poison, I’m not trying to order you around! She’s trouble! You’re going to get yourself killed or get someone else killed in the process. Is it really worth it to chase her? Just to satisfy your ego?”

“I know what I’m doing. Let me know if you hear from Disco.”

“You’re too trusting, Poison. It’ll be your downfall.”

“Have some faith in something for once, Kobra.” Poison walked off without another word. He wouldn’t dwell on his brother’s sudden doubts or what was going on in the west. It was beyond his control. Fixating wouldn’t help anyone and would just build anxiety. Right now, he would occupy himself with finding the woman who had stolen from him. He didn’t know what he'd do when he found her. What was he hoping for? That he’d get laid?

She’d tricked him and while he’d stolen her lighter, he still considered it a loss. The lighter was just a memory and the memory wasn’t that of a fun night. It was a remind that she’d bested him. She’d tricked him.

He patted the beat-up Trans Am he’d spent the last few months fixing up. He’d painted a giant spider on the front of it and some other graffiti along the sides. He bet the flames from the lighter would look pretty killer on the back end. Blasting the music, he tore off into the desert. Window rolled down, he patted out the drum beat on the side of the door as he drove.

It’d been some time since he’d recorded anything with the boys for his band: Mad Gear and the Missile Kid. He’d have to change that. Maybe in another life that would have been his career. Once in the third zone he found a place to park that was close enough to the second zone that he could run it but far enough that it would be difficult to be followed. If this woman was as murderous as Kobra claimed he’d need an out.

Besides, being in the second zone was no joke, not for Poison. The bounty on his head was one of the highest. Caution was important that close to Battery City. He locked up and then took to the second zone on foot. It was an unusually quiet day. The town was musty and rundown and even more so as he approached the street Kobra had listed. There was the old warehouse, just as promised.

It was likely that she wouldn’t be there but he’d ask around if he could find anyone. He’d doodled a little sketch of her from the night before and it was in his wallet now. He patted to make sure he still had his wallet and then searched around for someone to ask. Usually, that time of day, the streets were bustling with civilians going about their day. The warehouse may have been shutdown but the other stores and buildings weren’t. Where was everyone?

He caught eyes on him from a window down the street but when he looked, the curtain was shut fast. They were hiding! From what? Stopping in the middle of the dusty street he searched around, pulling his mask over his eyes. Something was going on. It was like a scene from an old western, the kind he and Kobra used to love. “Grab your six-gun motherfucker…” he muttered beneath his breath as he searched. Where could he hide? Then he ducked low at the sound of laser fire.

On instinct he grabbed his gun and returned fire. If it was Dracs then he had to make a break for it but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t.

“You’re surrounded! Hands up!” Poison leapt out of the way of another shot that scattered dirt where he stood. His heart raced! Masked strangers, familiar masked strangers! Killjoys! Shooting at him? What the fuck? That was the reason the civilians of Zone Two were hiding! Killjoys! A woman with bright red hair and green goggles shot at him and he returned fire but missed on purpose. He didn’t want to hurt his people.

“Stand down!”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You asked for this, Party Poison!” The woman laughed then spat in disgust.

“Shit.” Poison stumbled out of the way of another shot then braced himself as a man in red leather leapt at him. He kept his grip on his gun and ducked another strike but then was struck in the jaw. Flipping his gun in his grip he grabbed the butt end of it and swung hard at the Killjoy. He wouldn’t fire at them. They were his people! “Fuck off!” He kicked the stranger and then ran at the sound of another laser blast. “Whatever Tiger Beatdown is offering you isn’t worth betraying our cause! Come on! I’m not going to shoot you!”

“Betraying our cause?” The man on the ground wiped the blood from his jaw and got to his feet. “You hypocritical piece of shit…”

“You’re a scumbag and a criminal Party Poison! Put down the gun and die with dignity!” They were staring him down and were many. They were going to kill him. Of course, he was a scumbag and a criminal! He thought they liked that about him! They meant it though and were willing to spill his blood to get their point across. They thought he was a traitor just like he thought Tiger was a traitor. It didn’t seem like they wanted to talk.

He had two choices.

One: he could do what they asked and forfeit his life and die innocent.

Two: he could remind them why he was leader of the fucking Killjoys and find out what the fuck was actually happening.

He didn’t recognize the Killjoys and usually he would at least know their masks unless Tiger had signed them up without telling him. Someone was lying to them. Someone was lying to him and he’d had enough. He’d sooner die than help the Dracs.

He reconsidered.

There was only one choice. He fired another warning shot at the woman slowly approaching him. She dodged away and Poison grabbed the arm of the man closest to him and then pulled him in the line of fire. They wouldn’t shoot at their own people, he hoped. He kicked the back of the man’s knees and he fell to the ground. Then he shot at the ground to kick up dust and ran toward the warehouse door. The windows had been boarded up when the building had been condemned. It wouldn’t be easy to break into.

He closed the door and locked it then searched for something to block it. Peeking between boards over the window he counted. There were at least ten that he could see but likely more in hiding. He knew that they were likely searching the warehouse for other entrances. He had a very short window of opportunity to escape.

“You can’t outrun us Party Poison! Come out and give yourself up! It’ll be over in an instant.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted and then grunted as he pushed an old slop sink in front of the door. It was heavy but worth it to block up the door. He’d have to get back into shape after this. Then he crept silently through the warehouse, listening for footsteps and signs of entry. There were stairs and so he crept up them, trying to avoid boards that he thought might creak. It was only a matter of minutes before they were in the warehouse. Gun aimed low, finger off of the trigger he came to terms with the fact that he would have to shoot fellow Killjoys.

“What do I do?” He grabbed the lighter from his pocket as though it had answers. It didn’t but it gave him a good feeling. Pressing the metal to his lips he offered it a kiss and closed his eyes. “Wish me luck, babe, because I need it.”


	6. Adrenaline Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's watching over Poison, or at least he thinks so. The lies come to a point but will they get away from the Dracs? The Scarecrow?

They were banging on the walls and shoving at the door on the floor below. What the fuck was he going to do? Disco had to be dead. They’d caught her, killed her, and come for him. It was the only thing that made sense! But why call him traitor? Had Tiger convinced them of that? There were so many lies being spread that he couldn’t sort them, not then. Killjoys, his own men and women, were outside waiting to kill him. No trial, no conversation, just execution.

The lighter was clutched so tightly in his palm he could feel the carvings imprinted in his flesh. The only way out was up. That part of the zones the buildings were clustered tightly together. He could jump from building to building until he’d gained enough distance to make a break back to the ground. They thought he was cornering himself in the building and that would buy him some time. He could see why the arsonist chose the warehouse for meeting with Kobra. It was surprisingly secure as abandoned as it was.

The boards on the windows were reinforced.

She’d done it. He knew that now. The lighter was hot in his grip. He could kiss her. She’d saved his ass without even knowing. He made it to the third floor and checked the lighter. Some of the red paint had smeared onto his hand so he shoved it instead into his pocket. He needed a bigger distraction. The lighter, of course, was the answer again. He grabbed a few of the old, frail wooden chairs stacked up nearby and smashed them to pieces, tossing them into the stairwell. Then he ripped the bottom of his shirt, wrapped it around one of the legs of the chair and then lit the cloth. It was sweaty and damp and he cursed mentally at himself.

Finally, it caught and he could breathe. Fire spread across the cloth and then the wood. He waited for the flame to spread then threw it into the kindling he’d piled on the stairs. There was a woosh and a rush of heat and he was impressed with how fast it caught.

“Time to go.”

Would he have to take the west camp back by force?

“Not now.” He shook his head. Planning could happen when he was back to safety. The idea of having to capture his own men made him sick! There was no time. So much for any of the scenarios he’d played out for reuniting with the arsonist that afternoon. He grabbed boards from the only window that didn’t look reinforced and pulled. His fingers ached but he braced himself against the wall with his foot and tugged.

It cracked and split and then the nails came free. He nearly fell on his ass but the board came free. The others came free a bit easier but tore up his fingertips. Fingerless gloves were a curse at the moment. The window open, he could hear something downstairs. They’d gotten in. Checking his pocket for the lighter, he assured it was there and then opened the window and swung his legs over the side and leapt onto the roof of the second floor. The building went up higher but he knew the shop next to it was only two stories tall.

Wind whipped at him and dust roared through the air filled with smoke that was now pouring through the cracks of the boarded-up windows below. He tied a bandana around his nose and grimaced at how far the building next door suddenly seemed. “This is fucking moronic. I’m a fuckin’ moron.” He repeated and then without a second nervous thought he took off at a run. What was the worst that would happen anyway? He’d fall? He jumped at the edge of the building and much to his relief his feet touched on the roof of the shop across the way. He stumbled across it and then punched at the air in success.

There was no time to celebrate. He had to keep going. Building after building until he’d gotten enough distance that he could run safely. Dusting his hands off, he continued to the other end of the building then crouched low as he heard footsteps. They were searching for him and he wouldn’t let them find him. Peeking over the edge to check if the coast was clear he caught sight of civilians outside trying to put an end to the violence in their neighborhood.

If he survived, he’d have to come back and thanks these people. He’d always tried to be good to them and that had paid off. No time to waste. The distraction had worked, the warehouse was on fire and civilians were buying him some time. He made it to the next building with far less anxiety and nerves. When he told Kobra about this he’d be horrified but Poison felt like a ninja.

Building after building led him across town and the adrenaline pounded in his ears. If nothing else, this would make for a harrowing story later. He made it to the end of the block and then rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath, laughing quietly between them. “Take that, assholes.” He spat to the side and then walked to the edge. There was a fire escape that led into the alleyway at the end of the block. He sat on the edge of the building, lifted himself and then lowered himself down as far as he could.

His feet managed to rest on the top of the windowsill below. The rest of the way he’d have to jump and hope the noise didn’t carry over the chaos happening down the street. Fire was roaring through the sky, the air filling with smoke. People were shouting, guns were being fired. If those Killjoys were firing at civilians then he was going to be furious.

“Fuck all of this.” He muttered in a sing-song sort of tone before letting go of the roof and jumping onto the fire escape. It crashed and banged and he grabbed the railing to try and stop the sound. There was no time to wait to see if anyone heard him. He had to keep going. Carefully he hurried down the steps, jumped the railing, landed on the next set of steps, and then did the same until he got to the bottom.

He’d outrun worse than these assholes. Letting out the ladder that would take him from the fire escape to the ground was out of the question. Ten feet between him and the ground. He didn’t think about it. What was ten more feet after leaping across an entire block of buildings to make it that far? He landed and crouched to absorb the blow before standing upright to run through the alleyway behind him. Instead he smacked into someone and stumbled back, fists up and ready for a fight.

“You!” Agent Alpaca’s familiar face met him. That motherfucker!

“Didn’t expect to find me alive, did you, asshole?” He punched Alpaca right in the jaw and watched him buckle in surprise, then slammed his fist into his gut. With a kick, he knocked Agent Alpaca to the ground where he lay, staring in surprise.

Poison approached, laser in hand but Alpaca leapt to his feet and ran straight toward Poison, trying to knock him to the ground. Poison slipped his arm around Alpaca’s head and braced his footing, stopping them both. Then he shoved Alpaca back up and blocked his punch but Alpaca grabbed his throat with his other hand.

Poison gagged and spit in Alpaca’s face

“You son of a bitch!” Alpaca made to punch Poison again but he was done playing games with these assholes. Poison grabbed Alpaca’s wrist, twisted and kicked him away. Alpaca had meant business, his throat immediately hurt. Alpaca was back on his feet, fists at the ready, staring him down and waiting for Poison’s next move.

Then there were sirens and they were deafening. Agent Alpaca searched in alarm but Poison already knew what had happened. They’d caused too much of a disturbance and now the Dracs were storming zone two. In minutes they would be swarmed by men in white suits wearing vampire masks. Poison didn’t look away from Alpaca.

If they knew he was there they’d send the Scarecrow. That motherfucker had defied death more times than Poison had. In fact, Poison had shot him ten times once and the asshole had still come at him. He wasn’t sure that Korse, the Scarecrow, _could_ die. The last time they’d met, Poison had taken a knife to his face and left him scarred. He’d barely made it out alive.

Korse longed to end his life, he’d said it on more than one occasion. There was no time for this. Lasers were suddenly being fired. The Dracs were there. Poison grasped his laser pistol and cursed under his breath. “This is fucking stupid.”

“Run! Fall back! Run! He called his buddies!” The woman who had called him a traitor that morning ran down the block, leading her Killjoys to fall back but then she fell to the ground in a pile of steam and laser fire.

“My buddies?” Poison didn’t have time to think about it. They had to go. Dracs and Killjoys flooded the streets, people were screaming, lasers were firing. Killjoys were dying.

“Over here!” One of the Dracs’ muffled voice gestured to Poison and Alpaca. “Jackpot!”

“Time to go.” He rushed down the alleyway so he could slip between another building and out onto the other side of the block but Alpaca grabbed his arm roughly.

“Don’t you fucking move!” Alpaca practically threw him against the wall and Poison coughed and then stiffened up at the metal of the gun pressed to his jaw. “One more fucking inch and I blow your brains out, asshole.”

“Shut the fuck up! You and your friends are done. Don’t you care that they’re dying?” Party Poison headbutted Alpaca so hard that his nose bled and he cursed and stumbled backwards. “We have to go!”

“Where is he…” Poison could hear Korse’s voice through the crowd of Dracs, it carried as though it were meant for him.

“What are you talking about? Don’t play mind games with me, you…”

“Alpaca!” Tiger ran from the other side of the alleyway and then slid to a stop in the dirt where he stared pleadingly at him. Poison saw red. “Don’t hurt him!”

“You fucking…” Poison aimed his laser at Tiger but lowered it the moment that Disco appeared over his shoulder. She’d turned on him? This couldn’t be happening. “You goddamn traitor! Both of you! We’ve come so far for you to turn on us?” He stepped closer but Tiger pulled out his red laser pistol and aimed, though his hand shook. Poison stopped in his tracks. Disco was one of his oldest friends, one of his most trusted allies. His hands trembled with rage. “Traitors. All of you!” There was no time for their fighting.

They had to go. The Scarecrow was coming for them. For him. It was a sadistic game the two of them played. Poison was the rabbit and Korse the hunter.

“If the Scarecrow wasn’t fucking here then you’d bet I’d take every one of your damn heads!”

“Poison! Listen! You’re wrong about Tiger Beatdown! Someone’s lied to you! Lied to him!” Disco stepped in front of Tiger, shoving his arm down so the laser would no longer be pointed toward Poison. He wasn’t sure if he had been that angry in years, at least not while sober.

“We don’t have time for this!” He shouted and Disco quieted but he could see the panic on her face.

“You’re wrong! Whoever told you that Tiger turned traitor lied! Someone told him the same about you! We came here to talk! Why would you agree to meet me if you didn’t believe me?” Disco cursed under her breath.

“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t come here to meet you!” Poison hesitated. He’d come there to find the woman who owned the lighter burning a hole in his pocket. They’d been setup. “These aren’t your Killjoys?”

“I thought they were yours!” Tiger seemed eager to talk it out. They really didn’t have time to talk, any second and they’d be swarmed by Dracs and far worse than that. No one had told him to meet them in the second zone. No one had reached out to him. Someone was lying.

“No one contacted me. I’m not here for you. I don’t know these assholes. Do you think that my Killjoys would corner me in a warehouse and demand my head?” Poison didn’t care anymore. They had to go. He wasn’t going to die by the Scarecrow’s hands today, not for them. “Look around! They aren’t here for you. They’re here for me! And now the Scarecrow is here.”

“The Scarecrow?” Alpaca muttered with sudden panic. “We’ve got to go.”

They weren’t hunting him, not anymore. He had to get into hiding as quickly as possible and wait it out. These idiots weren’t worth dying over.

“These aren’t my men, Poison! I just received word today from a scout that you were seen torturing those who questioned you and had made a deal with Dracs! I knew it couldn’t be true! Hear me out!” Tiger shouted in spite of the sudden panic washing over them.

“Korse is going to kill every fucking one of us and singlehandedly end the Killjoys if we don’t run.” 

As if on cue, Korse turned down the alleyway, tall, bald, his white suit covered in the blood of those he’d mowed down on his way there. He pulled them apart for fun, gutted them, enjoyed their suffering. It was partly where the nickname had come from, the fact that he’d pulled Killjoys and rebels limb from limb. He was some sick Better Living experiment, some super human, undead bullshit, Poison guessed. His arm hung lip, as though he’d met resistance but it didn’t slow him down.

“Run, rabbit… _run._ ” He growled, showing off the scar that ran from the bridge of his nose, beneath his eye and over to his jaw. He licked his lips and tilted his head, fixating on Poison. Poison shoved Alpaca away and then backed up. He wouldn’t turn his back on Korse, he knew better. He’d be shot in the back. Dracs had no dignity. “That’s right. Run, little boy. I’m ready to pay you back with some new scars.” Korse suddenly rushed toward him and both Poison and Agent Alpaca fell to the ground with a thud.

“Shit!” Poison cursed as the laser pistol fell from his grasp.

“Hey, asshole!” Disco aimed and fired shot after shot at Korse who absorbed the blow and twitched. Smoke plumed from his shoulder but he did not stop. Poison kicked him but Korse grabbed his throat and squeezed. Alpaca was on his feet and running.

“I promised I’d get you back. Oh, you’re in for some fun.” Korse hissed. Poison frowned and gagged and slammed his fist against Korse’s arm but the Scarecrow didn’t let go. He even spit at the Scarecrow but he didn’t budge.

“Fuck… you…” Poison choked. “Run!” He said in a gasp to the others. Why were they still there? If there was any ounce of truth to what Disco had said then they were all innocent and someone was fucking with them. They had to go! Korse lifted him up and shoved him hard against the wall where he struggled and coughed, holding his throat. He was free, but cornered.

Then there was a whistle, faint at first, but very quickly it became loud. Korse turned toward the sound curiously and just as he did, a silver and red rocket struck him in the side and into the side of the building behind him. The rocket pierced Korse’s flesh and Poison grinned from ear to ear.

“What the fuck?” Alpaca stepped back. Where had it come from? Poison searched above him but wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Someone was looking out for him! Poison got to his feet and stared at the rocket. It was designed to blow up after it had struck to do the most damage. There were flames painted on the side and his heart leapt into his throat. He recognized those flames from the lighter in his pocket.

“We have to go! He won’t stay down long!” Tiger yelled and waited. Sure enough, the rocket exploded and Poison was forced to step back, the fire barricading him from the others. “Turn back!” Poison knew exactly what he meant. They’d meet up at the bar once the heat was off.

“Fuck off!” Party Poison flipped them the middle finger but shoved the information into the back of his mind. Right now, he had to focus on running and he could see that Disco was pulling Alpaca and Tiger away, as though they didn’t want to leave him behind. They had a lot of talking to do once they were safe. The rubble and the fire moved and Poison caught sight of the silhouette, burning, of the Scarecrow, pulling himself free of the rubble.

He wouldn’t die. Not like that. Korse would chase him until he was called back to do a damage report. He peered around at the roofs again and searched for where the rocket would have come from as he run. Then he looked through the streets. The angle had been low, from the side.

“Thank you,” he whispered under his breath as he ran through the chaos.


	7. I'll Be Your Dealer if You'll Be My Addict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party Poison was looking for the addict and boy did he find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters of this whole story XD

_‘Keep running, rabbit,’_ the words repeated in his head as he ran in search of safety, an eye out for his savior. Korse was on his tail but moving slower being that he had a hole in his side and had blown up. Poison had retrieved his pistol miraculously and was checking it over in his hands. It was chipped, possibly broken. Things couldn’t have gotten much worse.

He ran back into the alleyways across the narrow street and dodged between buildings in the direction the rocket had come from. Apparently more had been fired. He could hear the Dracs searching for the person who had fired them. Poison searched the alleys for a door to cut through the buildings, pistol in hand.

The door before him opened and he was shoved back as a small-statured woman came rushing from within, black hair with red stripes pulled back lazily, bright red and orange jacket catching his eye. It was her! She’d completely ignored him as she rushed down the alleyway, no gun in hand; awfully bold for someone in the middle of a firefight.

It was _definitely_ her. She’d saved him more times that day than she knew.

“Hey! Addict!” He shouted and then mentally cursed at himself. Why? Why did he immediately shove his foot down his throat? She stopped, stiffened up and turned to face him. He’d thought for a second that she was happy to see him but he was very, very wrong.

“ _You._ ” She narrowed her eyes and instead of telling him to run or being relieved he was safe, since she had saved him and all, she lunged at him.

“Holy shit!” His gun flew from his hand and the woman knocked him onto his back. “What the fuck?” He hadn’t expected her to pack a punch being as petite as she was.

“Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

Poison coughed as she punched him twice hard in the gut. He grabbed her wrist to prevent a third but she wasn’t so easily stopped. She twisted his arm and pinned him to the ground. He, again, wished he didn’t think it was hot.

“I said: where is it?” She released his arm and then patted down his jacket pockets and when she didn’t find what she was looking for she groped his back pockets before reaching around to the pockets in front.

“Whoa! Hey!” Poison grabbed her hands to stop her and nudged her off, rolling onto his back but she climbed atop him and made to punch him hard in the face. He barely moved his head out of the way in time and her fist smashed into the ground. Yelling in anger, she shook out her hand but then made to strike again. He’d had enough of being smacked around. He grabbed her arm, sat up, and then threw his weight toward her to knock her beneath him. Then he stumbled to his feet and searched for his gun.

Dust had been kicked up around them which hindered his search. Cursing himself mentally, he opened his mouth and spoke before thinking. “At least buy me a drink first…”

“Do you ever stop thinking with your dick? You fucking thief!” She got to her feet and Poison snapped his mouth shut. “Hand over my lighter or I blow your fucking brains out against the goddamn concrete.” He stiffened up as she aimed her orange pistol at his head.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Poison stared at her in awe. Kobra had warned him she’d react that way and yet he hadn’t expected it. In fact, he’d mentioned the word ‘crazy’ several times and Poison had chosen to ignore it. Somehow, he’d gotten it into his head that they shared a common bond or something. If they did, she did not seem to agree.

“I’d love it if you tested me.”

Party Poison didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t bluffing, he was sure of that. In the distance a figure lumbered toward them through the dust. How had he made it to them in one piece? The fucking Scarecrow. He wasn’t much human at all anymore, Poison guessed.

“We can’t argue about this here, we have to go!” He shouted and the woman looked confused.

“I just threatened you! I’m not going without my lighter and if you keep yapping, I’m going to kill you!”

“If we don’t go _now_ then Korse is going to kill us both and it won’t be pretty. Something tells me it’s not the way you want to go! Die here and your lighter won’t matter.”

“Give me my lighter and then you run from Korse. He’s not after me.”

Party Poison was panicking, finally. He ran his fingers through his messy red hair. Die because this crazy bitch wanted her lighter and he was an idiot or die because the Scarecrow caught him. He could, of course, give her the lighter, but it was his only bargaining chip. Besides, he’d grown quite attached to it.

She wasn’t killing him though. She talked a big game but she hadn’t pulled the trigger. He believed she was a killer, he could see it in her eyes, but there was something else there. He knew she wouldn’t pull the trigger.

“He’ll kill you too. It’ll be slow and painful. No amount of drugs will help with that.” He ducked suddenly at the sound of laser fire. Korse had shot at them but he was wounded and his aim was off. “Could you at least pretend to care that he’s coming for us?”

“I said don’t fucking move.” She stepped closer. Poison grabbed the barrel of her gun and moved it to the side, feeling the barrel hot as she fired twice. His hand burned and he let go of the gun.

“You shot at me!”

“What part of I’ll fucking kill you weren’t you understanding?” She aimed at him again but the Scarecrow was close and he wasn’t aiming at Poison anymore. He was aiming at _her._ He did the only thing he could think to do. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the way of the blow and the laser shot by them, just barely.

She smashed her fist into his ribcage and he coughed then stepped back and retrieved his gun. They couldn’t fight about this anymore! He aimed at the Scarecrow and fired but the gun didn’t go off. Shoving it into the holster, he grabbed the addict around the waist and threw her over his shoulder.

“Oh, you are asking for it,” she snarled.

“I’m saving us both, so shut up and aim!” He yelled and then took off at a run, rushing around the corner and through another alleyway.

“Put me down or I shoot you in the ass!”

“Do it then! You want your lighter too badly so shut up and shoot at the Scarecrow!” He wished he could gag her, just for the moment, but there was nothing he could do. If she didn’t stop yelling then they’d never find a place to hide. “He won’t spare you just because I’m here.”

“The Scarecrow.” She seemed calmed by that and Poison thought that was the wrong response, absolutely. “Fuck, he’s seen my face.” She muttered and finally she took aim. The Scarecrow killed Killjoys for fun. Not only had he seen her face now, but he’d seen her face right alongside his which made her a target. “You should run faster.” She had apparently agreed not to shoot him in the ass which he appreciated.

She shot at the ground behind them, kicking up dust with each shot.

“I said shoot _at_ him!” Poison tried to peer over his shoulder but he could only hear the chaos behind them. “You’re just pissing him off!”

“Shut up and get us out of here, I’m blocking his vision, dumbass.” She kept firing at the ground and then at several things that crashed behind them. Poison knew they had precious few seconds to find shelter and then they’d have to stay hidden for hours until the danger passed. Poison racked his brain for hiding spots that hadn’t been discovered in the second zone.

He knew just the spot. The Scarecrow was coming for them and they had to go. It was much easier to run with the addict cooperating rather than fighting him at every turn. Poison kicked the door on the building around the corner and fled inside. They’d gotten some distance on the Scarecrow thanks to her carefully aimed shots. It wasn’t much of a hiding place. He shoved the door closed and then ran through the building, arm securely around the addict. He could, of course, let her down, but he was already moving.

“I’ll close doors.” She seemed impatient and uncomfortable, stiff and annoyed in his arms. If the Scarecrow hadn’t been chasing them then he was almost certain he would have lost a hand through the process. She shut the doors behind them as he rushed through the building.

They ran through the factory that had been abandoned throughout the chaos. The sirens were still ringing and the citizens of the zones feared it. He opened another door that led into an adjacent alleyway that backtracked from where they’d been pursued and when it was clear he stepped outside. She shut the door behind them.

He ran across the alley and into the next building where he carefully closed the heavy metal door to keep it silent. Then he carried her down the stairs in the backroom that led into the basement. There was a trapdoor there hidden in the floor that he’d had built when the riots had been particularly bad a few years back. He hadn’t had need for use of it since and as far as he knew it had never been discovered.

He set the addict down. The basement was musty and stunk of water damage. Hopefully the room beneath it hadn’t been washed out. She turned to him and Poison placed his hand over her mouth before she even had a chance to open it to object. She narrowed her eyes at him and he pulled his hand back carefully then searched the floor, careful of pipes and old tools. He pushed a heavy box aside and then swept his foot over the floor to obscure the drag marks.

There it was, beneath the dirt and dust. It was difficult to spot, even for someone who had used it before. He grabbed a rusted pipe from nearby and then slipped it beneath the cracks and pried open the trapdoor. There was a ladder that led down into the darkness below.

“Ladies first.” He urged and she shook her head to object. She adjusted furniture in the basement, further obscuring their hiding place. At least she wasn’t fighting him anymore and if anything, he admired her survival instincts. “Come on, we have to go,” he whispered and then climbed down the ladder. She followed him and carefully allowed the lid of the trap door to close without so much as a sound.

The hiding space smelled worse than the basement above it. A layer of water coated the floor but it was only a centimeter or two. The addict’s boots made a splashing noise as she touched down and then moved to the far back corner. She held her gun still and had it aimed at Poison but didn’t fire. He checked the edges of the door and shifted it and then all he saw was darkness.

His fingers wrapped around the lighter in his pocket as he listened. That was the reason she’d been harassing him in the first place. He pulled it free and flicked the lid open, striking the fire. There should have been rations and a lantern in there for long haul reasons.

“Don’t move,” she hissed, stepping closer in the dim light of the flame of her lighter, holding the barrel of her gun against his neck as he bent over to light the wick in the lantern. He sighed and lit the lantern anyway before flicking the lighter closed. The lantern gave them enough light to see their tight hiding space.

“This again.” Poison rolled his eyes but opened his mouth in a silent cry as she smacked him in the head with the butt end of her gun threateningly. “God, you’re just as bad as the Dracs. I should have left you to rot.”

“Why didn’t you?” She curled her lip in annoyance. “My lighter. Now.”

“Same reason you didn’t just kill me, I’m guessing.” He frowned. She was intimidating in the dim light, her blue eyes blazing with the kind of rage he’d only ever felt and not seen before. Venom practically dripped from her. Even the Scarecrow didn’t look at him the way that she was. So much for getting laid at the end of this. “Fine. If you would just,” he began but then Frenzy aimed the barrel of her gun right between his eyes, “…calm down.”

“Stop wasting your breath and give me my fucking lighter.” She put her finger on the trigger. Any favor he’d earned during their race away from the Scarecrow had been lost. She looked as though she was struggling with the idea of killing him and leaving him be. She blinked her eyes closed tight and muttered to herself. “Quiet.” Party Poison’s eyebrows shot straight up on his forehead. Uh oh, she was talking to herself. That couldn’t be good.

“…I was being quiet,” he said when she didn’t continue.

“Enough. Give me my lighter.” Her hand shook as she stepped closer. “Now. I’ll sit in here and hide with a corpse if you don’t. Give it to me.”

“Hey.”

“Stop talking and give me my fucking lighter.” Her blue eyes reflected the fire from the lantern in a manic fury that Poison recognized. He held out his hand and unfolded his fingers from around the lighter. She snatched it up from him and turned away, holding it to her chest like something precious. Her rage melted into quiet desperation as she cradled it close to her.

Flick, flick, flick. Poison could smell the sulfur of the lighter sparking, something he’d done many times. He watched as she held the lighter, admired it, like a lover she’d not seen in months. Maybe Kobra Kid had been right. He was an idiot. She’d called him a thief, accused him of the same, but she had robbed him just as much as he had robbed her. She’d conned him. Then again, she had told him to get lost. He’d kept playing with fire, he supposed.

“Why’d you save my life if you were so eager to kill me?” He was there, talking, again without the permission of his brain.

“Hmm?” She seemed surprised that he was there. Her shaking had stopped and the rage had melted from her eyes. She slipped the small lighter back into the pocket on her corset but kept her hand over it as if protecting it.

“You saved me from Korse earlier. That rocket. It had the same art that’s on your lighter.” He gestured to the lighter and she covered it further, protecting it.

“You used a lot of the butane.”

“You were hellbent on killing me when you caught up to me so why waste your ammunition saving me from the Scarecrow?”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah you did, actually. Korse was about to rip my throat open and you shot him all to hell. Great shot, too by the way. Good timing with the explosion. Kept me safe.”

“I was saving _it_ not you. My lighter. You had it.” She looked around the cellar as though she had just noticed it was there, lifting her shoes in the water in surprise. There wasn’t much down there. A few old crates filled with supplies and that was pretty much it. Blankets if they got cold. He sighed. She was nuts. That was it. At least she’d been a good shot. She also hadn’t killed him in spite of threatening to do just that a thousand times. She’d given him good advice the night before too. He should have taken it.

That was right. She’d stolen from him. He grabbed her arm as she made to sit on one of the crates. “You stole my fucking pills.” Much to his surprise, she smiled but didn’t respond. She even laughed.

“And?”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite!” Poison hissed though he wanted to yell. He wanted to shove her but instead he tightened his grip on her arm and tugged her close, making her feet splash in the water. “You hunted me like prey for a damn lighter when you stole my stash which was worth way more, I’m pretty sure.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

“Oh, enlighten me. You had that whole speech about not sleeping with addicts and then you steal my pills because you’re a fucking addict. All in the same breath you criticize me for being a dealer?”

She shoved at him but he tightened his grip. “First of all, _dealer_ , I stole something that you stole from someone else. You stole something very personal and important to me. Do you see how those don’t weigh evenly against each other? I don’t owe you shit. Consider my payment to you the fact that I didn’t shoot you in the fucking face for stealing my lighter.” She twisted her arm free of his grip. “You’re nothing more than a peddler of candy to children and I’m too old for this children’s game. I’m no hypocrite either. You twisted my words. I don’t sleep with addicts or dealers. Didn’t say I wasn’t one. I stand by that.”

Party Poison was in awe that she was justifying being an addict, a thief, and a hypocrite all in one breath. He was wildly irritated and yet shocked that she was cunning enough to make him believe her. She’d never claimed she wasn’t an addict, that was true. She’d even outright rejected him several times. She had, also, kissed him though. Or had he kissed her? He couldn’t remember anymore. He’d mixed up the truth with the fantasies he’d played in his head. It didn’t matter. A kiss had happened, that much he was sure of, so he could stand by that.

“Yet you kissed me,” he argued. “You kissed me after saying you didn’t sleep with dealers.”

“You’re dwelling on that? I just wanted your pills,” she laughed, stepping away from him and leaning against the cool, damp wall. Poison’s face turned red. She’d used him just like he’d used countless women many nights before. He didn’t feel guilty about that but he was a little embarrassed. She’d kissed him _just_ to steal the pills. It had never occurred to him that it hadn’t been attraction that had driven her to it. Was it just him then? Drawn to her?

He folded his arms across his chest and slumped against the wall, watching her. The light flickered in the lantern and her silhouette was shrouded half in darkness. She fiddled with her lighter without looking up at him.

“Fucking addict.”

“One of us should go. You don’t want me around and I don’t want you around either. You think you know everything because you used to use? You don’t know shit. I’m happy to leave. The Scarecrow doesn’t want me.” She suggested. Poison had to unpack all of that for a second. How did she know that he had been addict? And she was wrong. The Scarecrow had seen him carrying her. He’d hunt her down just to get to him.

“H-how?” His mouth would not say everything he wanted to say.

“Come on, only someone who knows what those things do to a person would be as angry with me as you are. Really. I’ll go. I’ll be fine. I’m good at hiding.”

“Thanks,” Poison was struggling with words which wasn’t usually a problem for him. It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say but he couldn’t think of a reason to tell her to stay. Why should he? She’d done nothing but try to kill him, lie, and steal from him! Yet he _wanted_ her to stay. She’d pushed and he wanted revenge. At least he thought that was what he wanted. There was a ton of mixed up nonsense going on in his head.

“For what? Not killing you or volunteering to leave?”

“Don’t go. Look, you may have done it to save your lighter but you _also_ saved me and I’m more important than you realize.”

“To you, maybe. Don’t thank me for that. I don’t want your gratitude.”

“God, you just can’t take a compliment, can you? Fucking stubborn.”

“This is exactly why I’m trying to give you an out.”

“Don’t. I could use your help.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Just hear me out.”

“Like I have a choice.”

“Some people I know told me to meet them at Turn Back. You know it?”

“Last safe bar in the zones.” She shrugged and averted her eyes. He smirked. Of course, she knew it.

“When it’s safe to go I need you to take me there.”

“Am I your babysitter now?”

“No, not like that,” Poison chuckled. He needed to talk to Tiger Beatdown and if that was where he agreed to meet then he’d do it. The owner of that particular bar was a hard ass. He rarely let him even come in half the time. Someone had lied to him and to Tiger and they had to get to the root of it. His head was buzzing. Kobra had said he’d gotten his information from Death-iNation, one of his most trusted sleeper cells and probably the most successful. Was it possible that Nation had turned? Many sleeper cells had fallen prey to drugs and money but he had never expected it of Death-iNation. He was truly a good man.

“Then like what?” She sighed heavily. “I don’t want to help you. I want to get as far away from you as I possibly can and then never see your face or those eyes again.” Poison shivered. Why had she said it like that?

“Why? What did I do besides buy you a drink and steal your lighter? I didn’t force any of what you did on me that night. Does that make you uncomfortable?” Party Poison stepped closer to her again. His eyes, huh? What did they have to do with anything? Maybe he wasn’t imagining that tug to her after all. “I’m not convinced you hated every bit of that.”

“Wow, your ego is amazing. You’re a thief. You’re a liar, and you think more with your dick than with your brain so I’m pretty sure you won’t get anything accomplished with both a chip on your shoulder and dick in hand. I already told you. I don’t sleep with dealers. So, this won’t end how you want it to end.”

“You need to stop calling me a fucking thief. And I’m not a liar. Look, I’m not fucking perfect, I know that. I just… ugh.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why was he explaining any of this to her? “Sometimes I like to take little trinkets from a particularly fun night so I can look back on it fondly. Usually it’s something small and pointless like a pen or perhaps a lighter from their pocket. If I had known who you were or that you were a drug addict then I would have been more careful about what I took. It was a cute lighter. And yeah, all I saw were tits and ass so, fuck me, right?”

“No, not fuck you.” She shook her head and he laughed and hated that he thought it was funny.

“I learned my lesson, alright?” Poison pointed to the bump on his forehead from her gun.

“I’m not convinced.” She laughed much to his surprise. “I’ll leave.”

“What if I pay you?”

“I’m an addict, buddy, not a whore.”

“Not for that. To get me to the bar.”

“Why is it that I should help you? You keep calling me crazy and an addict and a thief.”

“Well, you have tried to kill me a handful of times and you keep calling me a peddler and a liar and…other things.”

“A horny moron?”

“Yep, that’s the other one.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I’m not a liar.” Poison argued and she laughed again but was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Remember the story I told at the bar?”

“I do. It was mildly interesting.”

“Well, it was true. I didn’t lie. I’m the leader of the Killjoys.” He held out his hand to shake and she just stared at it. “Party Poison. Last night I received word that my friend that I put in charge of the western faction of Killjoys turned. I sent an assassin to clean up the mess. Turns out he was told that I turned. Something else is happening, something bigger. There were Killjoys hunting me out there, Killjoys that I didn’t recognize.” She merely stared at him so he put his hand down since she wasn’t going to shake it. He sighed. “My gun is busted. I can’t go walking around the zones without a gun. I hear you deal in weapons. I need your help.” He nervously pushed his red hair out of his face but it fell right back into place.

She didn’t seem happy. He couldn’t decide if that was because she was annoyed with him or considering helping him.

“You’ll need a weapon.” She avoided his gaze. “The Dracs will patrol for twelve hours before going back to their posts. The Scarecrow doesn’t sleep and boy does he seem to want you so it won’t be safe for a few days.”

“I don’t have days.”

“I know. We’ll have to be careful.”

“Thank you.” Somehow, he’d managed to talk her into it. He wasn’t sure how he’d done it but she’d agreed. Kobra hadn’t told him her name and she hadn’t ever offered it so he figured it was a good place to start. “What’s your name?”

“Fire Frenzy. Though I think you knew that given you know I’m an arms dealer.”

“What’s your real name?” He smirked. “You know, the one you had before all this. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” His confidence was back. It was a high to have convinced her to stay.

“I don’t want yours so that’s not much of a trade.” Party Poison made to object but she spoke over him. “We should wait for sundown at least. Easier to sneak around. Gives us time to wait out the Drac patrols too.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me twice. Not eager to be running from their guns again. Honestly, I’m a bit on edge.”

“Oh? I couldn’t tell.”

“I’ve had more people try to kill me today than I have had in a long time.”

“You’re so charming, I can’t imagine why so many people would want you dead.” Sarcasm dripped off her every word. “Let me see your gun.” She held out her hand expectantly.

“Oh? If you insist.” Poison reached for his belt and unbuckled and she made a sound of disgust.

“Unless you want me to shoot it off, I suggest you reconsider.” Frenzy tapped her gun in its holster. “This is the whole horny moron thing again. Don’t mistake my not trying to kill you for something other than what it is. I’m still pissed.”

“This is going to be the longest wait.” He fixed his belt and then pulled his gun from its holster. It sparked as he examined it and burned his finger. He hopped in frustration and much to his surprise, Frenzy caught it before it fell into the water. “Son of a bitch…”

“Huh, it’s broken.”

“Wow, thanks, Columbo. Didn’t take a fuckin’ arms specialist to realize that, now did it?” He slipped his singed thumb into his mouth.

“You’re such a baby.”

“It burned, so fuck you, Frenzy. Fix the damn thing.”

“You know, you just handed over your gun so I could leave you here unarmed, Party Poison. I suggest that you be a little nicer and maybe hold up the light so I can see better.”

“I’m not getting any of what I want here so excuse me for not being fuckin’ polite anymore.”

“Wow, do women really fall for you?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s still too dark.” She examined the gun and reached into her pocket before pulling out a small thin wire that she bent and used to unscrew parts of the gun. He chose to ignore the dig and held the lantern a bit closer, leaning over her shoulder so he could watch her work.

She smelled nice, which for some reason surprised him. He expected her to smell like fire. For some reason he’d gotten this mental image of someone incapable of taking care of herself. Apparently, he was wrong.

“I can’t fix it here.” She turned toward him and then stopped upon realizing that he was so close. He hadn’t expected she’d turn either but much to his surprise her cheeks flushed under the lamplight. She turned back and scooted further on the crate so she wasn’t so close. A smile crept over his face and quickly turned into a shit-eating grin. “I need better tools and replacement wires. It’s fried. Shorted in your hand. Won’t do that anymore since I pulled it off the starter.”

“It has to wait then. I guess you’ll just have to protect me.” Poison sat next to her on the crate and she made an obvious noise of disgust. He took the gun back from her once she’d screwed it back together. “You know… we have some free time.”

“You are the worst.”

“I think you like me.”

“You have absolutely no idea how to read the room, do you?”

“I think I got a pretty good read on you.”

“I liked you better when you were afraid to talk to me.”

“Sorry, doll.”

“I feel like I’m going to have constantly remind you that you’re unarmed and I’m not afraid to kill you no matter who you are.” Fire Frenzy stiffened up then pulled her lighter from her pocket and tilted away from him, flicking it to life. Her fingers brushed through the flame, unharmed. It seemed like it calmed her nerves.

Watching her, he felt guilty for taking the lighter. What was wrong with her, anyway? The drugs? They didn’t usually make a person act like that. It was more than that. What had driven her to it? Everyone had a reason. Addicted to pills and clinging to a small metal trinket filled with fire to comfort her. That was no way to live. He decided to ease up a little for the time being.

Minutes faded into hours between casual conversation. It turned out that Frenzy was rather interesting in spite of her incredible skill and ability at avoiding talking about her personal life. She was good conversation on many other less personal topics, though. Poison discovered that they had quite a bit in common even if Fire Frenzy scoffed at the idea. They both liked similar music and art. She was still short with him as though talking to him was like pulling teeth. He recognized it. She’d built up a wall brick by brick and built it faster when she’d realized that she’d liked talking to him.

Joke was on her. There was no wall he couldn’t scale. Frenzy closed her eyes and counted; he could hear her under her breath. “Sun should be long gone.” She stood up and made her way to the ladder in the small cellar. Poison watched her go, leaning back against the wall. The next few days would be difficult. The Killjoys, if they didn’t disband, would need an overhaul. That was all if he didn’t die in the process. Still, he smiled.

She pushed up the trapdoor and seemed satisfied by what she saw and heard.

“Safe?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Still have to be quiet.”

“Okay. You’ll have to cover me. I’m unarmed. What happened to your rocket launcher, anyway?”

“Discarded. Too heavy to keep carrying.”

“Seems like a waste.”

“The ones I build are meant to be discarded. Not exactly easy to hide carrying that thing. Too impractical to dismantle.” Frenzy shrugged. “Besides, I can build another. I have plenty.” Frenzy climbed out of the cellar and waited for him to follow. It was quiet. There was no sign of Dracs and the sun was long gone. Better than that, there was no sign of the Scarecrow.

“Feels too easy,” Poison muttered as they walked. He guessed that his car would likely be surrounded too by either Killjoys or Dracs so they would walk to where they needed to go. It would take ages but Frenzy didn’t complain so neither did he. They’d taken the blankets with them to cover them. They were both way too bright and outlandish to make a proper stealthy getaway.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Never understood that turn of phrase, but yeah, still seems suspicious.” Poison followed her, making it seem like it was because he wanted to stay behind someone armed but that wasn’t the case. Might as well enjoy the view on his walk.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a bunker well past the bar that they’d return to later. He stopped before it. He’d seen it before and had assumed it was abandoned. It looked abandoned. Windows were boarded up and the only thing out of place were some stones laying out in the dirt nearby.

“This is where you live?” Poison tapped the front door that led to a set of stairs that went underground.

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t look very inviting.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“My house is kinda the same. Means to an end.”

“You talk too much.” She led him down the stairs and waited for him to close the door to the outside before opening the door at the bottom. She flipped on the lights and walked inside.

“Holy shit…” Party Poison froze in the doorway. The walls were lined with weapons hung over beautiful colorful graffiti. On the desk beneath a line of rifles hung on the wall were schematics, neatly rolled up with the exception of one that looked like a gun she hadn’t built yet. There was a workbench nearby covered in tools and a small, uncomfortable looking, cot that was covered in more supplies. It looked like it hadn’t been slept in for some time.

Fire Frenzy sat at her workbench and organized the tools before clearing a space for his gun. “Gun?” She tapped the bench when he didn’t give her his weapon. He walked, slack-jawed, over to the bench and set the gun in front of her, staring at the walls. There were rows and rows of shelves filled with grenades, bombs, scopes, armor, triggers, detonators and more. Anything he could imagine? It was there.

“I think I might be in love,” he joked, walking carefully along the rows of shelves. “Mind if I take a look around?”

“Yeah, just keep your love in your pants.” She remained hunched over the workbench, pulling pieces apart from his gun. He laughed. She got up only once to get some replacements. “And don’t touch anything.”

“Oh, come on. That’s like putting cake in front of me and telling me not to eat it.”

“Don’t eat the cake. Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Yes, _mom_.” Poison whined and rolled his eyes but kept looking over the shelves. “I’ve got my hands in my pockets so don’t worry.”

“That does not make me feel better. Don’t touch anything.”

“Someone’s cranky.” He teased but it only made him more curious. He turned a corner and found more shelves filled with more weapon parts. Genius. This woman was a mad genius. He skipped the row and walked to the final one and chuckled. “Beautiful.” There were paint supplies on another shelf back there that looked like they hadn’t been touched in some time. There was an old radio nearby. The bunker was surprisingly large. There was something else back there, another room perhaps?

Two shelves were turned to line the wall in the opposite direction that the others faced. He figured that perhaps it was to make them easier to move. It was easy to slide the one shelf out of the way even though she had told him not to touch anything. She knew damn well he wouldn’t listen.

Frenzy was busy working anyway so he figured he’d check out the cool secret room. Carefully he moved the other shelf and winced at the sound it made but Frenzy didn’t admonish him for it. He carefully peeked around the corner and saw her still working so, more confident, he traced his fingers over the seams of what was definitely a big heavy steel door. His fingers searched and he found a handle hidden flat against the door. He pulled the ring and began to tug but then felt something cold, and now familiar, against the back of his neck.

“I told you not to touch anything.” Her voice was low. “If you pull that handle then your brains will be the newest art on my wall.” While he had earlier been certain that she wouldn’t pull the trigger, he was now very certain that she would. He had to listen for now and let his curiosity go.

“Right, definitely. Forgot. My bad.” He pulled his hand back and showed her both his hands. She pulled the gun back but still aimed it at him as he turned to face her. What was she hiding that she was willing to kill him for? “I’m sorry. Out of line.”

“I fixed your gun.” She was aiming _his_ gun at him which was somehow more insulting. Sweat was dripping down her cheeks and they were rosy, her hands shaking. Ah, yes, the addict. She hid it well at times but there it was, plain as day. She needed pills.

“I see that.” He took a risk and grabbed the barrel of his gun, pulling it slowly from her grasp and then breathed a sigh of relief. She was different than before. Darker? Quieter, for sure. She’d joked with him in spite of her objection to him but now she looked very serious. Whatever secrets she had were only that much more interesting now. “Thanks. This place is a work of art. You’re an artist.”

“Uh huh. Pick another gun just in case. Probably something with a bit more firepower than a pistol. If you want to go small, take a revolver. Bigger? Shotgun. I’ll give you a knife too. Keep in your boot. Never know when you need to stab someone.” She made to move the shelves back to their place. He went to help her and she shot him a warning look so he backed off.

“I could use something a bit longer range, I think.”

“Rifles are big. That’s up to you. Shotgun’s got more punch but better at closer range. Big spread if you take some explosive rounds.” Frenzy made a tempting argument but he was leaning toward a rifle anyway.

“I can see why Kobra comes to you. These are amazing.”

“Take this one.” Frenzy walked past him and pulled a large rifle off the wall. She aimed it, checked the mechanics of it and they made a satisfying and sexy sound. He did his best not to shift uncomfortably but he was definitely, at the last, making a face. “Long range, good scope, laser sight if you want it. If you’ve got a steady hand then you’ll make your shot. Can’t account for user error. I can’t make you any good with a gun. About six rapid bursts and it overheats so you need to either count to five before each shot or let it cool down. Strap comes with it.” She offered it to him and he took it carefully, familiarizing himself with it. “You can take a few practice shots outside to get used to it.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Knife. Strap it to your leg and hide it in your boot. Keep the sheath on unless you wan to bleed out into your boot.” She handed him a modest-sized dagger without looking at him. Her patience had run thin but she spoke like a professional. Her breathing was faster and now she was shivering and sweating. She hid it well but Poison knew what to look for.

She hid a knife in the lining of her holster for her gun which she checked before replacing. Then she took a second to grab another gun and turned away from him. He knew what she was doing. Poison knew she didn’t want him to see but he watched anyway, reminded of himself a few years prior, trying to manage a habit that was slowly killing him.

He felt guilty. Those were his pills. The pills he’d been planning to sell to make some cash. The pills he would sell to someone suffering the way she suffered. If he hadn’t taken them in the first place then she wouldn’t have them. At least not from him.

“You don’t need them.” He grabbed her wrist before she could take them and they fell to the floor. It had to have been some time since she last took them. Just twelve hours off of the pills and withdrawal would kick in. The symptoms were written all over her. She was already there. She’d worn it well, like someone who had been poisoning herself for years.

“You don’t know me, Poison.” Frenzy avoided eye contact with him. He held her wrist tight and she didn’t fight him like he expected an addict to. “We both know I can’t afford to go through withdrawal right now. Just let me take them. It’s not your problem. I would have found them one way or another. It’s not on you.” Poison grit his teeth. It was like she’d read his mind. She was right, though. He didn’t know her or what else she was on, if anything. Stopping her from taking the drugs would cripple her and make her useless to him. He let go of her wrist and walked away. He wouldn’t watch her poison herself.

He walked out of the bunker without another word and practiced with the rifle. It was beautiful. Her talents were wasted to those damn drugs.

“Come on. Before sunrise.” Frenzy locked up her bunker. “Turn Back isn’t far from here. Harvey doesn’t let most people in at this hour but he’ll make an exception for me.”

“Harvey? You know the guy?”

“Yeah. Nice guy. Told me how to find you.”

“Asshole.” Poison laughed. She was still avoiding his eyes and he tried to shake his frustration. That was a conversation they would have a different day. If she thought he was going to leave her be after all was said and done? Then she had another thing coming.

“Get walking.” Frenzy started away from the bunker without him. Party Poison watched her go before taking off at a run to catch up. With any luck he’d unravel the tangled web that had been woven over the past few days.


End file.
